May We Meet Again
by Weatherbug02
Summary: "Murder lives forever and so does war. It's survival of the fittest, rich against the poor." It's been one year since the slaughter in Paris. Corinne does her best to move on, but the pain still haunts her. When the English threaten the French coast, she finds an excuse to make amends for everything she's done. But her journey takes an unexpected turn with many complications.
1. Prologue

The fire crackles through the darkness, letting off the only light that protrudes into the night. With each passing minute the cold grows stronger, to the point that a slight frost covers the bark of the lone tree behind him. Yes, it's a freezing night, but things must be done.

A twig snaps, and he jumps to his feet. "W-Who's there?" he calls into the night, but no answer comes. He had been leery of meeting like this in the first place, and as it got colder, that fear grew. But he came anyway. He had to earn a living somehow.

A shadow comes forward, agonizingly slow, and then stops. "Matthew Reed," it says.

Matthew takes a step back, nearly falling over his horse's saddle. "Dear God, man. Could you please not say my name aloud as if we were regular citizens? There could be people watching."

The shadow reaches out a hand. "There is no one."

"How do you know?"

"Little faith has the man who must see to believe."

Matthew looks around, scanning his eyes slowly over the darkened horizon. Whether it be his imagination or not, it's almost as if there's figures moving about. A hand clamps down on his shoulder, and he turns back to the shadow of a man before him. Slowly, the shadow lifts down his hood, revealing that he is not a phantom, but a mere man.

"W-Who are you?" Matthew breathes.

The man smirks. "That needn't be known, young man, but there are certain things I need done, and I believe you are the one to do it."

They sit, close but not too close, and Matthew painfully swallows the lump in his throat. "Why me?"

"Tsk, tsk. So many questions. I haven't even given you the assignment yet." Matthew sighs, looking down at his hand. "You are an assassin, are you not?" the man asks.

"Not by choice," he answers. Matthew meets the man's eyes, but immediately looks away.

The man sneers. "We all have a choice. But are you an assassin?"

Matthew sighs. "Yes, I am." A sudden realization crashes down on him. "Are you with the English armada? The French? The Italian? Have you come to arrest me?" Not letting the him answer, Matthew jumps up, putting his knife between him and the man in question.

The man doesn't even flinch. "Now, now. I'm as wanted as you, sir, but you don't need to know how so." He grasps the handle of Matthew's knife and drives it into the trunk of the tree. "I've heard you're good at what you do, and I need a job done."

Matthew narrows his eyes. "Then, by all means, tell me what it is."

"I need you to find and kill a girl, or a woman, I should say now."

Matthew raises an eyebrow. "A girl?" He laughs, shaking his head in utter disbelief. "Can you not handle a little girl by yourself?"

"She is not a little girl," he snaps, "but a decorated soldier that can take you down and kill you with one flick of her pretty little wrist. Now, if you don't want to do this, say so now, because then I will know how much of a coward you really are."

Slowly, Matthew shakes his head and starts to laugh. "You really think I'm stupid, don't you?" He snorts. "Well, I'm not. I'm not going to kill a girl just because she tarnished your pride or whatever the hell she did. You can do that yourself. And I'm not a coward. I've killed more people than I'd care to admit, and, I'm sure, far more than you."

The man smirks. "I highly doubt that. And it wasn't a choice, sir."

All at once, a cold, sharp blade is pressed against Matthew's throat, so tight that a thin trail of blood travels down his neck. He doesn't dare speak.

"So, how about we rethink that offer, hm?"

The people holding Matthew loosen their grip just a bit, just enough for him to speak. "I thought you said we all have a choice."

The man smirks. "Ah, but we do. You kill the girl, or we kill you."

Matthew stares at him a moment, debating whether this is worth it. He's killed so many people before, how is this any different? It's not. It's just a girl. Just a girl. It'll be no trouble at all.

"Who do you want me to kill?" Matthew asks, his voice a solemn whisper.

The man smirks, finally realizing that he won, just like he knew he would.

"Her name is Corinne D'Artagnan."

* * *

 **AHHH IT'S FINALLY TIME. Okay, okay, okay. Welcome back, friends. Thank you all so much for reading this. Trust me, it's going to be a WILD ride, so just buckle up and stay tuned! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Keep in mind it's just a prologue, so it's shorter than most of the main chapters. Most of the actual chapters will exceed this length, but a few are quite short. Just bear with me while I get comfortable with this world again!**

 **Also, I've made a Spotofy playlist for this story if you wanna check it out! Just go to play . spotify user / weatherbug02 / playlist / 6cQodxE7M3PQZa2XrmVEWs (Remove spaces)**

 **And I've made a fic trailer, which you can find at this link: vimeo 171347857 (Again, remove spaces)**

 **Again, thanks so much for reading, and tune in next week for what happens next!**


	2. The Blood of my Enemies

**(A/N: Violence and language trigger warning. Please know that this story is a very high Teen rating, so keep that in mind while reading this story.)**

* * *

They come in

I yawn as the men approach me, an arrogant little smirk on my lips. I take my drink and sip it gingerly. As much as I'd love to have some ale, I settle for coffee. Have to stay sober in the midst of the idiots and those trying to kill me. Besides, Captain doesn't like us coming home tripping over our own feet.

They stand in front of me, their snarls never wavering. I blink boredly at them, patting myself on the back at how nonchalant I look. With my feet propped up on the table, showing off my brand new black boots, I look the epitome of everything Captain wants me to: calm, decisive, arrogantly beautiful. "Can I help you?" I ask, though I know exactly why they're here.

They sit down in the extra chairs with a thud, and I snort. "Please, by all means, sit."

"We know who you are," one man says.

I roll my eyes. "Doesn't everyone? After all, my face is plastered all over His Majesty's country."

The men look annoyedly at each other, one setting his jaw, the other bringing his fist down on the table. "Not yet. But it will be, and don't think someone won't turn you in because they need that money."

"So you admit your country is a disgusting cesspool that doesn't pay enough for your people to support themselves?"

"Don't play games with me," he growls.

I purse my lips, bringing my feet down to the floor. "Now, now. That's no way to act in public. You should know your manners now, shouldn't you, John? After all, you did have eight tutors when you were a boy."

His eyes widen. "How did you know—?"

"It's simple really," I answer, taking another sip of my drink. I reach next to me and grab a yellow file, flipping it open. "John Beaumont, 43. Your parents were Reginald and Teresa Beaumont. You come from a family of merchants, very wealthy ones at that. You had three brothers, one sister. Shall I go on?" He doesn't answer.

I reach for the other file next to me and start reading from it. "Anthony Tremaine, 25. Comes from a poor family. Had one brother, but he died as a young teenager. You were in prison for three years. You now have a wife and a daughter." I look up at the other man, who now stares at me with disgust.

"Bitch," he spats.

I laugh, shaking my head. "That is the first right thing you've said all day." I sigh, sitting up the way I was taught—back straight, head held high. I never thought I'd need it, but it does help intimidate. "Now, boys, I would not suggest underestimating me. I have more blood on my hands than you could possibly imagine a little girl having." I say this like it's not a big deal, but the memory is still heavy on my heart.

"That doesn't seem like something to be very proud about," Anthony says, a mocking tone in his voice.

"Oh, I'm not. That's one thing you'll understand later in life, Anthony." Sighing, I stare both the men down, not daring to move my eyes away from theirs, something I learned long ago. If I'm perfectly honest, it's how I get what I want. "What are you doing here?" I ask, letting my annoyance soak into my voice.

"We want you," John answers, narrowing his dark eyes. "And we're going to get you."

I smirk, leaning forward. "Ah, but you don't want to do that. I am giving you both to the count of three to get out of this tavern. Leave, and you'll live. Stay, and I swear to God I'll kill you. One."

John and Anthony look at each other nervously.

"Two."

Anthony starts backing away, but John grabs his arm, forcing him to stay.

"Three."

John crumples to the ground, a dagger lodged in his chest. Anthony's eyes widen, and he lets out a gasp, jumping back. He looks toward me, his eyes pleading.

With one yank, I pull my dagger out of John's chest, lightly tracing my fingers over the blade. Anthony stares at me, dumbstruck, as if he thought I wasn't capable of killing someone. Say that eight years ago, and I might've agreed.

"I know many things, Anthony. I've done many things I'm not proud of." I take a step toward him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him toward me until our noses nearly brush. "But don't think for one damn second that I am above murder. I'm not. I may look like a helpless little girl, but if you or anyone lays a finger on me, sends me a threatening note, or does so much as spread a rumor that someone is trying to kill me, you will be sorry." I shove him to the ground. "Go." I needn't say another word. He scurries away, running for dear life.

I look down at the body that lies at my feet, his eyes still wide open as blood trails onto the floor. He's still alive. I know he is. "I know what you did, John. View this as revenge for the children you burned at that house in Orléans." In one smooth movement, I bring my heel down on his face.

I exit the tavern, leaving John's body for the owner or a poor barmaid to discover. It's funny. I should feel ashamed that I killed someone. I should regret it and beg God to forgive me. But, honestly, I'm already going to Hell, so I might as well do it thoroughly.

* * *

There are certain

When you're asleep.

When you're alone.

I avoid both as much as possible. In fact, I only sleep once or twice a week. I used to treasure it. I used to sleep as much as I could. But now, after everything that's happened, I just can't do it anymore. Dreams haunt me, their faces haunt me, even to this day. Knowing that I'm responsible for their deaths is too much of a toll on my conscience.

And then it's about the same when I'm alone. I avoid it as much as possible. I spend most of my time with other people or busying myself with missions that Captain gives me, but sometimes it's not enough. Those are the days when I sneak the ale into my room and drink until I forget what I did, who I've become.

I push these thoughts away when I reach Captain's door and start debating whether or not I want to enter. He really doesn't like to be bothered, but I end up knocking anyway. "Come in," he says calmly, though I can hear the annoyance in his voice.

I open the door and enter the office. He sits there, nose-deep in paperwork, not even acknowledging my presence. "Sir?" He looks up then, and I'm suddenly struck with that painful remembrance.

He looks just like him.

He looks just like James.

They are brothers, after all. I shouldn't be so surprised. Andrew Baudin has his hair, his nose, his height, his overwhelmingly good looks. It's all the same, and that's one reason I often avoid coming here. It's too hard to see him in another person, a person that's not and will never be him.

"Yes, Corinne?"

"I… the men are taken care of," I say, looking at the floor awkwardly.

"Are they both dead?" he asks.

I sigh. "No, I left one."

His nostrils flare. "What? Why?"

"He had a wife and child, Andrew. I couldn't kill him. I've done terrible things, but I still have a conscience. I know what it's like to grow up without a father, and I wasn't going to be the one who takes him away from that little girl." My voice is so intense, so passionate that he admits defeat by letting out a sigh.

"Fine, you win, as always." He looks back down at his paperwork, and I take that as my cue to leave.

I turn away from him, but suddenly stop, remembering something I've been wanting to ask him. "Andrew, uh… I was wondering if I could possibly… take a short vacation?"

He looks up, raising an eyebrow. "A vacation? You haven't asked for anything the entire time you've been here, and you're asking for a vacation?"

I bite my lip and nod. "Well, you see, it's my birthday in a few weeks, and I'd like to go back to France just for a little while."

He shakes his head. "No, not possible. You are wanted by the King of England, Corinne. If anyone sees you—"

"They won't, Andrew. They won't, I promise. I'll be careful. I—"

"My answer is final."

I snarl, turning away. There was a time where I would've fought this tooth and nail, but when Andrew decides something, it's best just to leave it be for awhile. He'll come around eventually. I exit the office and wrap my arms around myself. Yeah, Andrew'll come around eventually, but who knows how long eventually will be?

He doesn't understand what I'm wanting. He thinks I'm just tired. He thinks I just want time off. That's part of it, I'll admit, but that's not what this is really about. I vanished without a trace when I left Paris. I was just gone. I just hope everyone could figure out what happened. I couldn't bear it if I found out they thought I was dead again.

Sighing, I focus on what's ahead in front of me. The institute is large, based in a secret cave on the Western coast of Scotland. In its entire decade-old existence, it has never been found by any enemies, so they say. It's supposed to be the most secure place in the entire country, but perhaps it's too secure. A little adventure wouldn't hurt every now and then. Of course, this is coming from the girl who defended her country from a threat every other week. This should feel like a breath of fresh air, but… it's not. It's anything but.

I had to leave. I had to. There was no choice. But that doesn't mean I had wanted to. No, I had wanted to stay so badly. I had wanted to sob and have Renée tell me to be strong. I had wanted to feel Aramina's reassuring touch. I had wanted to hear Viveca's soft voice again. And I had wanted to feel Louis's arms around me, whispering his apologies over and over again.

I had wanted to stay.

I had wanted to stay so badly.

But I couldn't. I had to cope alone. I had to keep them safe. Safe from me.

"CORINNE!"

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when my name is screamed, and I'm suddenly knocked to the ground. I gasp, hitting the floor with a thud. Sitting up, I rub my head, groaning. An innocent face smiles across from me, and I wrinkle my nose. "Nathaniel."

He giggles. "Hi."

I shake my head as he helps me up. Well, as much as he can help for an nine-year-old. Sparkling brown eyes stare up at me with such youthful innocence that it fills my heart with envy. I put my hands on my hips. "Can you tell me exactly why you were running in the halls again?"

He presses his lips together, brushing his brown hair out of his face. "Uh… practicing… for the… Redcoats. Yeah."

I raise an eyebrow. "Mmhm. Would you like me to tell Andrew of your… 'practicing?'"

His eyes widen. "N-No, that's okay."

I giggle and wrap my arms around him, lifting him into my arms. He wraps his legs around my waist and arms around my neck, shrieking in delight. "Nate, we don't want you to get in trouble, now, do we?"

He laughs, shaking his head.

"Alright, then. Where is Ms. Perkins?" I ask. He pulls away slightly, and I see the light blush that coats his cheeks. "Nate, where is Ms. Perkins?"

He shrugs. "Around. Somewhere."

I laugh and start tickling him. He starts flailing, nearly falling out of my arms several times. Suddenly, a woman turns down the hallway, her hair ruffled and unkempt, a snarl on her face.

"That—that boy! More like a menace! I quit!" she shouts.

I press my lips together to keep from smiling at her appearance. "I-I… I'm so sorry, Ms. Perkins. Please, stay."

"Not for one million pounds!"

She storms down the hallway, bumping into my shoulder on her way out. I snort, looking back at Nate, who's face has gone near white. "Don't worry about it. She wasn't much fun, anyway, right?"

Nate smiles, wrapping his arms around my neck again. "Could you be my babysitter, Corinne?" he asks, his high-pitched voice sending an ache to my heart.

"Nate," I say, "we've been over this—"

"I know," he wines. "I was just hoping that maybe you could… just for a little while. You're so much more fun than some smelly old lady."

I smile sadly, rubbing his back gingerly. "I'd hope so." Sighing, I set him down and kneel so I'm at his level. "Hon, you know I have duties. Someday you'll have them, too. Maybe someday you can come on missions with me."

His eyes widen. "Really? When?"

My heart pangs at his eagerness to join this life. If only he knew what I've done. Maybe someday I'll tell him. "When you're old enough."

"Nathaniel Richmond! Where are you?"

My eyes dart up ahead just in time to see Philip storming down the hallway. Nate gasps and hides behind me, clutching my leg. Philip sighs when he sees Nate's small figure. "Nathaniel, come here," he says, his voice less angry and more filled with annoyance.

"Philip," I say, smiling, "always a pleasure."

Philip rolls his eyes. "Hello, Corinne. Mind giving me Nathaniel?"

I turn around, letting Nate jump back into my arms. "I don't know, sir. Should I? The nanny is already gone. Might want to go catch her." I start walking, and I hear Philip's footsteps right behind me. We walk into the main hall of the institute, and I see the amused smirks of everyone as I challenge one of the largest men in the entire building.

I stop, turning back to Philip. "Come on, Philip. It's not his fault he has to deal with such intolerable women. After all, he is the only child here."

Philip sighs, running his fingers through his graying hair. "I know, I know. I just get so upset sometimes. Who is going to watch him? I can't have him getting into trouble."

He sets his gaze on me, and I roll my eyes. "Don't give me that look. You've known for a long time that I refuse to me some housewife who takes care of the children and waits on her husband hand and foot." I set Nate down on a bench and turn back to Philip. "I love Nate. You know I do. But I have responsibilities, so why should I be the one to give them up? You are his uncle."

Philip looks down at his nephew, who had just taken up fiddling with his thumbs. He kneels in front of him. "Nate, please. You have to help me. I-I know it's been hard since Mommy and Daddy… passed away, but you have to cooperate some with me. If Sir Andrew finds you a burden, he'll kick you out of the institute."

Over my dead body.

Nate sighs. "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make Ms. Perkins quit. I was just… having fun with her."

Philip chuckles, ruffling his nephew's hair. "Yeah, yeah. Right." He stands, bowing his head at me. "Thank you, Corinne, for taking care of him. I really appreciate it."

I smile. "It's no problem, really." It's really not. I love taking care of Nate. It makes me feel less like a monster and more, well, human, I suppose. There are some days that I just can't deal with it anymore, days the memories just hit me so hard. Nate is what keeps me sane.

"Come on, Nathaniel. We have to go apologize to Ms. Perkins." Nate wrinkles his nose in disgust, but hops off the bench and hurries along with his uncle anyway.

I smile as I watch them go. There's a part of me that still wants what I had with… James. I want a husband, children, and everything that comes along with it. But… I don't think I could ever love that way again. He was my hope, my true love. He was mine. And I can never have him.

But I keep going. No matter how many times I've wanted to give up, I keep going. After all, there's only two choices to choose from when you're completely broken:

Give up.

Or keep going.

As I watch Nate leave, I feel a hand rest on my shoulder. Looking behind me, I see those all too familiar amber eyes.

"Anna," I say, blinking in surprise, "what are you doing here?"

She giggles. "Is that the welcome I get after so long?" she asks, her English accent emphasizing every word.

I let out a laugh. "Oh, sorry." I wrap my arms around her in an embrace, squeezing her small frame gently. "It's been a while."

She pulls back, a smirk on her face. "It seems it has. You've forgotten how to greet a friend without sounding like they're a terrible burden to your day."

I sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "No, you couldn't have come on a better day."

She stares at me a moment before gently grasping my wrist. Following her gaze, I suddenly see the crimson stain of blood on my sleeve. I gasp, snatching my wrist away and hiding it behind my back. "I… I can explai—"

Anna shakes her head. "Corinne, I know what you do. You don't need to hide that from me."

I can feel tears pressing against the back of my eyes, which is strange because I rarely cry anymore. "I know I don't need to, but I don't want you to view me as a monster." Though, I suppose that is what I deserve. I kill people, and… sometimes I enjoy it, too.

Like today. I had known John would come to find me. I had known what he did. And I had to get revenge. They do say that revenge won't help you feel better, and part of that is true, but I had felt such fulfillment when I sentenced Warner to banishment. I remember it perfectly. The chills that had crawled down my spine, the cold sweat. I remember the evil smirk, and the complete pleasure in my voice as I said it. It did make me feel better. And so did killing John.

I sigh. Maybe I am a monster.

Anna presses a hand to my cheek. "You are not a monster. You are one of the most humane people I've ever met."

I cringe and turn away from her, folding my arms across my chest. "That's a lie."

Anna shakes her head. "No, it's not. You know what it's like, Corinne. You know what it's like to be broken. You know what it's like to be betrayed and hurt over and over again. And yet, you still get back up each and every time it happens. You are human. You bleed—you bleed a lot—but you don't let that stop you."

My lip quivers, but I force it to stop. I've had enough of crying. "I wish I could agree," I whisper.

Finally giving up, Anna returns to the reason as to why she's really here. "I have information for Andrew." I nod, gesturing for her to go on. "The English are coming to the outskirts of the French border. Just inside English waters. Many of my men down there report that they may be attacking soon."

My heart beats rapidly. No. They can't be attacked. Not without me there. They can't. They won't make it. They won't make it without me. I let out a breath, trying to clear my head. I shouldn't underestimate the military there. Renée has written me, saying that the Black Cobras has been disbanded. They've reinstated the Musketeers as the primary protection of the king with first-class trained men.

Everything's okay. Renée has it all under control. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

* * *

It's the ale.

As I lay in bed dousing my memories with alcohol that sends my mind into a flurry of stupid things that I could never do. Running away. Going to Paris anyway. Defying Andrew. No, these things are not an option. I can't risk jeopardizing my welcome to stay here. This place is all I have.

But I can't seem to shake the idea out of my head. Of course, it would be an adventure, unlike every other day around here. Surely Andrew wouldn't mind that much. And besides, it's not like I'm asking a lot. It's my 31st birthday. It only happens once. I just want to be with my friends and my home for once.

But he doesn't understand. No. He thinks it's all a huge waste of time, complete nonsense. How could I expect him to understand? He's lived in isolation for years. I suppose I did once as well, but I can't do that anymore.

I sit, groaning as my head spins. I have got to stop drinking. I slide down to the ground and start digging through my armoir, throwing clothes into a bag. If Andrew thinks he can boss me around, then he's got something else coming for him. I am not one to be messed with, and it's about time for him to know that.

Standing up, I throw my bag on my bed and slam a piece of paper onto my desk. With a black pen, I write my dearest boss a note:

Dear Andrew,

Fuck you.

Corinne

I snort. I am so drunk right now. It is a very good thing I won't be here in the morning. Shaking my head slightly, I walk out the door.

There is a reason I never leave my room drunk, and that reason is the fact that I cannot walk in the dark. Not because I'm afraid, of course. It's because I end up falling on my face, and that does not look good in Andrew's eyes.

After managing to walk all the way to the stables, nearly falling down the stairs in the process, I open the door to the stable. With almost no trouble, I saddle my horse and mount him slowly, trying not to kill myself. I turn toward the exit and let out a breath.

This is stupid. This is really stupid. But somehow I can't get myself to march back up to my room. There's nothing stopping me. Nothing except myself, I suppose. But it's too late to turn back now. I close my eyes, moving my feet to get the horse into a trot, but a small voice stops me.

"Corinne?"

I gasp, looking toward the entrance where a young boy stands. "Nate? What are you doing out here?"

He blinks at me, unfazed. "You were acting strange, so I followed you. Where are you going?"

I press my lips together. "Uh… to go see some friends."

I can see the tears fill his eyes, and my heart pangs with guilt. The last thing I want to do is cause him pain. He's too innocent to feel the hurt that I've felt. "Why? Why do you wanna leave?"

I unmount my horse and walk toward him, wrapping my arms around his small frame. "Oh, Nate. I don't want to leave you. I'll never want to leave you. Always know that."

He pulls away from me, his lip quivering. "B-But… Can I come with you?"

I sigh. "No. It's too dangerous. Besides, you've got to stay and take care of Uncle Philip. You know he needs your help. And he'd be very worried if you disappeared."

"But I'll be very worried if you disappear."

My eyes fill with tears. At least someone will be. "Nate, I'm a big girl, okay? I can take care of myself. People need you here."

Nate, tears streaming down his face, wraps his arms around my legs, preventing me from going anywhere. "No! No, I won't leave you! You can't leave me, not like Mommy and Daddy did."

I choke on a sob. My God. That's what this is about. I kneel down, bringing my thumbs across his cheeks to dry his tears. "Nate, Mommy and Daddy aren't gone. They'll always be with you and so will I. I'll never leave you."

"But I want you here for real. What if you don't come back?"

Slow, silent tears threaten stream down my face. I blink them away. "I'll come back. I'll always come back for you."

He wraps his arms around my neck. "Promise?" he murmurs into my ear.

I sniffle, returning the hug, squeezing him gingerly. "I promise."

Slowly, as if not wanting to go, Nate releases me and wipes his face with his shirt sleeve. He hugs me one last time, a silent beg for me not to leave. I smile slightly as he takes my hand, fiddling with my ring. He always thought it was so pretty. With a small sigh, I remove the ring for the first time in over a year and set it in his hand.

"Keep this safe for me?" I ask.

His eyes wide, he nods, pocketing the ring.

"Promise?" I stare at him accusingly.

He nods rapidly. "Promise."

I lean in and lightly press my lips to his cheek before mounting my horse once again. "Goodbye, Nate," I say, trying not to cry.

He shakes his head. "This is not goodbye."

I laugh, running a hand over my cheeks. "You're right. May we meet again, Nate."

"May we meet again, Corinne."

Leaving has never been so hard for me before. Ask me to leave eight years ago, and I would be gone within five minutes. But there has never been a greater challenge in my life than leaving that boy behind, and I can only pray to God I make it back here to him.

* * *

 **(A/N: Alright, guys! Here's our first *Official* chapter. Ahhhh I can't wait for you to read this story. I have a super crazy plot outlined (Mostly in my head, but still). Just hold on tight! Also, I'll probably be adding new songs to my Spotify playlist every few days or so. Oh, also, I should've mentioned it is NSFW, so keep that in mind. Lol :D**

 **Chapters will consist of three POVs, btw. It will fluctuate between Corinne/Louis/Matthew and repeat. I hope you will stick with me through this time!**

 **And now, for my favorite part of posting, replies!**

 **TurquaTortle: Hahahahaha. I can definitely tell you that Philippe is NOT coming back to life. He is quite dead. Lolol Glad you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **Lasting Violet: HAHAHA I'm glad AATY was enjoyable enough for a countdown! Lol It's not Philippe. Philippe is very cold and six feet under. ;) Very true, but trust me when Matthew is much more complex than you might think. Thanks for reading! And, yes, updates will _usually_ be on Tuesdays.**

 **Decembra1998: Lmao I know. Matthew is v naïve, but hopefully his mind will be changed. Thanks you, and thanks for reviewing!**

 **Despicable Margo: Lolololol I know. She's suffered so much. I'm so mean to her, but tbh I feel no remorse. :P And thank you so much! I definitely try to make her as strong as I can, but keep her realistic and feminine. Hahaha My birthday's in October, too. I KNOW. She's so pretty and represents Corinne so well imo. Lol I'm a raphead, too, but I definitely recommend many of those artists, especially Marina and the Diamonds, Panic! At the Disco, and Allessia Cara! Oh, trust me, this is going to have much more romance than my previous stories, but it's just not one of the main themes. Mostly we'll just have a ton on the side in the later chapters! Stay tuned and thanks for reviewing!**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Demigoddess8: Ahhhh I know. It's been a long time coming, but I'm very happy the date's finally here!**

 **Thanks for reviewing, everyone! It honestly makes my day! Stay tuned for the next chapter, which is Louis's POV.**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	3. What's Done is Done

_**Louis**_

* * *

The sharp metal clanking. The stench of sweat. The light tapping of footsteps. The memories are all fresh on my mind, which takes me back to a time and place where I wasn't so unhappy. But that was so long ago. I'm honestly not sure if my happiness will ever come.

As I look at the man in front of me, I realize it probably won't.

To be honest, there's a part of me that wishes it won't. There's a part of me wanting to wallow in misery for the rest of eternity. Don't ask why. I couldn't tell you.

I suppose it's her, though. Hair the color honey, eyes the color of sapphires. That pink-ish blush in her cheeks, the crinkle in her eyes when she smiles. I'll never forget any of it. It's just stuck there in the back of my head until the end of time. There's a certain part of me that longs to forget her, what we've been through, but there's another part that can't deal with ever forgetting her. Despite her feelings toward me, I love Corinne D'Artagnan, and I will love her until the end of time. There is absolutely no doubt about that.

I could never tell her this, though, even if she does come back (and that is very, very unlikely). She'll never forget James, and she'll never forget how she broke his heart—or, I suppose, _we_ broke his heart.

"Give up!" the man across from me shouts.

I smirk and move in closer, nearly having him lose his balance. "Ah, but look who's talking. It is I, after all, who is winning this fight."

The boy snarls and tries to come back at me. I sigh. Moves so sloppy. It almost makes me feel bad for him when he crashes to the ground. He looks up at me with terrified eyes, and I start laughing.

"Sir…"

I offer him a hand, and he takes it reluctantly. "You're improving, Damon, but remember to always keep your footing. One wrong step could be your downfall."

The man—or boy, I should say—stares down at his feet sheepishly, his hair falling into his eyes. "Yes, sir."

I clap him on the back. "Good. Now, go take a break," I say, noticing a blue figure in the corner. "I have a meeting."

Renée walks toward me slowly, a smirk lining her lips. "He's getting better," she says, looking back at Damon. "Just a few more weeks and he'll be ready. Are you sure he can be trusted, though?"

I nod. "I think so."

Renée narrows her eyes. "Louis." She says my name roughly, exaggerating both syllables more than they needed to be. "You can't 'think' anything. You have to _know_."

I bring my palm across my forehead, rubbing off some of the sweat. "I know, Renée, but you can't be leary of everyone you meet. That's not how life works."

"I can live my life any way I want, thank you very much."

I sigh. "You know what I mean, Renée. Don't let fear stop you from living."

She rolls her eyes. "Lay off, Louis. I'm fine. I have my kids and husband. That's all I need."

I shrug. "Whatever you say."

"Dismiss Damon," she says. "We need to meet in private."

I do as she says and follow her to my office. Well, my secret office. My real one is not suitable enough for meetings like this.

"Is everything alright?" I ask when we get there, sitting down at my desk..

Renée sits down on a chair across from me, and sighs. "How are the recruits coming?"

I cringe. "All 40 of them? They're… not in the best shape, but they're coming along."

Now _that_ is quite an understatement. Some of the members of the new force refuse even to pick up a sword. I've about had my wits end with them.

"Well, they need to come along more quickly or you need to find some new men."

"What?"

Renée starts rubbing her temple. "I'm going to go insane, Louis. Ever since Warner happened… people have lost trust in you. Some have started to form small rebellions. The Musketeers are loyal to you and only you, I know, but remember what this force is for."

The new force is supposed to be there if the Musketeers ever fail or turn on me so nothing like the Baudin incident happens ever again.

I roll my eyes. "I know what the new force is for, Renée."

"Then get them ready and get them ready fast! Something could happen at any second, and if they're not ready you could die!" She shoots up out of her chair and brings her fist down on the desk. I stare at it boredly, unblinking. "I couldn't forgive myself if I let something happen to you. Corinne couldn't forgive me j if I ever let something happen to you."

I narrow my eyes. "You say trust no one so how could I believe that?"

"You don't. That's the thing. You can't hesitate to kill me if I betray you. Understand that, Louis."

But I don't understand it. I don't see why I can't trust people. I can't live my life in fear anymore. I did that for too long after Corinne left, and there's no way I can go back now. Despite what Renée thinks, I have to trust some, even if trust is a foreign concept.

"You wouldn't do that," I mutter under my breath.

Her eyes narrow dangerously, and I suddenly feel a cold sweat crawling down my spine. "Don't be so sure." She turns on her heels and marches out my door, slamming it behind her.

I sigh, rubbing my temple. She's being ridiculous. I don't understand what her problem is. The odds of her betraying me are less than the odds of Corinne being dead—nonexistent. I know she doesn't want anything to happen to me again, but it's gotten out of hand already. Corinne didn't ask her to ensure my safety, and I know I sure as hell didn't, so what is going on with her?

 _It's just Renée,_ I tell myself. _She's always been the strong one. You know that._

And she has. Even when I was done, ready to give it all up during those eight years, she was the one that kept me going. She was the one that slapped me every time I gave up the will to live. She was the one that threw a bucket of water on me when I refused to get out of bed. Without her, I'm not sure I'd even be here, honestly.

And I know she's just paranoid. She's never been quite the same since I banished Corinne. (The word comes easier to me now that I've come to terms with what I've done.) I know that there's a part of her that still loathes me for what I did, despite being the one to help me in the first place. It's not surprise, though. I banished her best friend. I may not have had a choice, but I still did it, and she loathes me for it. And… there's a part of me that loathes myself as well.

Every single day I imagine myself changing the course of fate. Standing up to the advisors. Killing them when I had the chance. Listening to my instincts for once and getting rid of Charles Baudin the moment he laid foot in my palace. I keep blaming myself for all this, and maybe I am the one to blame, but I know I need to stop wondering what would've happened if I made a certain choice. In the words of Shakespeare: "Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done, is done."

* * *

 **(A/N: Pretty short chapter, I admit, but don't worry. There will be a lot more where this came from. Next week'll be short as well, but the ones after that will definitely be longer. Not much else to update you on, so anyway,**

 **REPLIES!**

 **Lasting Violet: Hahaha you and so many others thought it was her son or something. I hadn't even realized how it sounded lol. Anna is a new character, an English duchess who is friends with Corinne. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Decembra1998: Andrew is such a prick I love him. Not really love, but you know, problematically love hahaha.**

 **PrincessGeekelle: She does deserve happiness, and I want to give her happiness in this story, but I can't promise anything. Literally, 8,000 different scenarios have gone through my mind as to how this story could play out ugh. I think I know how it ends, but it could always change. After all, the ending of AATY wasn't known until like half the story was done.**

 **TorquaTortle: HAHAHA So many of you thought he was her son it's kinda amusing. Omg Marina, Panic!, and Hamilton are literally my life, okay? MY LIFE. All day every day. Aaaaand as an author it shames me to say I have no idea about what happened to Miette lol**

 **z: Honestly, same. Tbh I'm not exactly sure what happened to Miette. We'll see once we get to Paris, which I haven't gotten to at all hahaha.**

 **Thanks for the reviews, everyone!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	4. Worthless

I can still feel their hands grasping me. I can still feel their knives pressed against my throat. I can still feel their breath against my skin.

I suppress a shiver as I curl up into a ball. I'm not going to cry, but I sure as hell want to. I've been threatened before—it's a part of the job, after all—but not like that. I've never felt like that. Usually the threats were measly attempts at my life right before I… I killed them. This was different. He had me. He could've killed me easily. The memory sends a cold sweat down my spine.

But it's okay now. They're gone. But the fear isn't. It's almost as if I feel like they're watching me. Maybe they are. To be honest, I have no idea. I have no idea about anything anymore. Things have just been going downhill ever since my last job, and… I'm not sure how much more I can take.

 _Please, for my girls. Don't do this._

That had been his last plea before I slit his throat. It's something I wish I could take back so desperately. I had been young and naive. I hadn't realized I could do something else. I guess I still don't realize I could do something else.

But… this is all I've known. This is all I've known for ten years. I can't just change like that. I'm a wanted man in around 13 different countries. When people say to just drop it all… They don't understand what I've done. They don't understand any of what my life has held for me.

Everyone else had a mother and a father and maybe a sibling or two, but me? What do I have? Dead parents? A crazy step-mother? An estranged brother?

No. They don't understand. They'll never understand. And, in a way, I'm glad they don't. It's better if the world leaves me alone. It shouldn't see me. It's too dark inside.

Sighing, I stand up and start to quickly gather up my camp. I need to get to the Channel before sunrise in order to get a boat, and it's a long journey from here. If I want to spare my life to take another I better leave now.

I still can't get her out of my mind. I've never met her, I've never heard of her, but he insists that she be dead. I have no idea why. How much damage could she have done to him to make him want her dead? I've known plenty of women in my 34 years on this earth, and I've never once been inclined to kill one. In fact, I have never. But maybe this man is mental. Maybe's he's wanted in 13 different countries just like I am.

But why not kill her himself? She's just a girl, and a Parisian, at that. That means she wears those expensive dresses and makeup. How could she be able to fight? It's impossible. Girls can't fight. Not like men, anyway.

Sometimes, though, I wonder if I should be so quick to judge. Women have held many important places in history. Joan of Arc, Eleanor of Aquitaine, just to name a few. But still, there have been very few important women that benefitted history the way men have.

But perhaps this girl is one of the exception

Once I'm packed up, I mount my horse and hurry off toward the docks. It's easy to get lost in these parts as the land looks very similar almost everywhere, but after five or so years out here exploring everything, I'm an expert at it.

These are unusual circumstances, I'll admit. Usually I'm the one that threatens people's lives, but I couldn't even get that far with this man. There's something off about him—I could tell within second of seeing him. I can tell that for some reason he's afraid of this girl, which strikes me as odd considering he seems to be able to hold a knife to my—a known and wanted assassin's—throat. It's a little far-fetched if you ask me.

Or maybe I'm underestimating this girl. For all I know she could be an assassin like myself. I could be walking into a death trap the second I look into her eyes. But the odds of that are very unlikely. This girl might just be a noble that he wants to get revenge on after she rejected his hand in marriage, or something like that. I could probably kill her off within a two-minute period.

But that makes my skin crawl. It makes me wonder what exactly she did to deserve this. Despite what I think, it has to be something more than some courting trouble. She had to have done _something_.

Shaking my head, I focus my attention on the ground up ahead of me, though I really don't need to. I may know this place like the back of my hand, but my horse knows it better. I am thoroughly convinced that all horses subconsciously know their way to Paris.

It's not the first time I've been on this route. I've had many, many hits in Paris in the past twenty-or-so years, and I've come to decide never to tick anyone from there off. I'll just leave that to the fools who get their names on my hit-list.

Despite what many think, I don't enjoy killing people. I've come to an understanding with it, knowing that it seems to be the only thing I'm actually good at, as terrible as that sounds. People do what people have to do, and some don't understand that. Sometimes _I_ don't understand that.

It's not necessarily that I'm ignorant of what I do. I know what I do is wrong. I know what I do is a sin in God's eyes. Then again, _I'm_ also a sin in God's eyes. It's only natural that I give Him another reason to sentence me to an eternity in Hell, right? I wish I could disagree, but as much as I want to, I can't. It's how the world works.

Bastards aren't supposed to be in this world, and therefore neither am I. At least my father was kind enough to give me pity and not exile my mother and I like many would. Then I would just have to survive my… stepmother. I suppose that's what I _should've_ called her at the time. "Bitch" was my favorite name to say in private, but I didn't see her much before she planned my death. Of course, we see how well that panned out for her.

She was such a fool for trying to kill me, and she never realized how observant I actually was. It wasn't hard to figure out. Her motives were very clear. It all just came down to the deed getting done, and, of course, she just chose the wrong stableboy to complete the task.

It was because of that event that I became an assassin. I wasn't my career of choice, but I did what I had to to survive, especially after I was kidnapped and taken to Spain. I was brought to a man, an enemy of France, and started working for him in exchange for my life. One day, around my fifth year working there, I just couldn't take it anymore and killed him myself. From then on I've been alone, and that's how I prefer it.

 _Someday I'm going to get out of this. Someday I'm going to lead a normal life_.

The idea even seems far-fetched in my head. No woman in their right mind would marry a bastard, let alone a wanted criminal. My life is just an endless cycle of nothing, destining me for solitude and loathing, an abomination in the eyes of God.

My happiness is just a silly ideal, and nothing, _nothing,_ could ever change that.

* * *

 **(A/N: Yay! New chapter! Welp, this is my new character, who you will see very much of in the next few dozen chapters. It'll definitely be an exciting ride, so stay tuned!**

 **As always, replies:**

 **Torquatortle: Yeah, he is kinda stupid, but you know, he's been royalty all his life. Doesn't have all the common sense Corinne has lol. Why does everyone keep thinking they have kids? Hahahaha Trust me, I would've said something. "Here Comes the General" HA I LOVE IT. Ik Renée is so perf, my smol child. Also hahahaha Hamilton is trash, but I love him, okay. And I may or may not be listening to Satisfied rn. I'm such trash, I'm sorry.**

 **Kshree: Thank you!**

 **VoodooVanz: I don't really feel like Renée's a bad person for what she did. Louis was pretty much breaking, and she had to help him even though her ways were a little… insensitive. And their relationship obviously has grown throughout the years while working together. Eventually they have to go by their given names. Also, sorry! I wrote out your username, but FanFiction messed up with their weird formatting :/**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Haha you and many others ;) Thanks for reading!**

 **Lasting Violet: Yeah, exactly! Renée has so much on her plate that she can't deal with Louis's shit anymore. She was very patient for a super long time, but now it's just time for everyone to grow up. Which they have. A lot. He's still king! You know, he just has a side job haha.**

 **Decembra1998: Hahaha not sure Harry Potter has enough time to help. He probs has no time with Ginny on his hands tbh. Have I mentioned I love HP? Oh, yeah, I love Harry Potter. Dramione is my s*** lol. Thanks for reading!**

 **blueheart: Thanks so much for reviewing, though reading is always greatly appreciated as well hahaha! I know! I love older Corinne! I didn't realize I did it until recently, actually. Corinne in The New Girl was around 19, I believe, and many of my oneshots were in her twenties. The only one I have her 17 is TLAOM (This Life Ahead of Me). I know! I totally spaced on Miette. Pets are hard to keep track of when you have so much going on :/ Yeah, Louis's still king! He just does that on the side. And, no, he doesn't know if she's alive or not. They haven't been in contact, but he's pretty sure she is. She is Corinne, after all. No problem! I'm happy to be back!**

 **Esmee-lynn: I know! I was so sad as well, but it had to be done. Ugh. Writer problems. No! I have actually wondered about Louis and Renée's relationship a few times! If she wasn't married I'd consider putting them together to see what happened lol. I'd love to hear your theories, too! XD I like to see what other people think will happen. Omg same! I looove Marina, and Savages is one of my favorite songs! I also love Girls from The Family Jewels, Power and Control from Electra Heart, etc. I'm Marina trash. Haha**

 **March98: Thanks so much! I'm estimating over 50 chapters so far. It's gonna be a long one.**

 **Thanks for so many positive reviews!**

 **XOXO**

 **Gossip Girl**

 **JK haha**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	5. Stranger Than You Dreamt It

**(Trigger Warning: Attempted rape, ungraphic)**

* * *

 _Corinne_

Sleep. I don't understand the pleasure.

I don't understand the pleasure of being unguarded and defenseless for hours and hours on end. Sleep is not something I look forward to. It makes me anxious. It makes me fear for my life. It's one of the few things that I actually do fear. Most nights, I can't sleep. At all. I'd lay awake for countless hours, debating, thinking, hoping. It's been going on since I left Paris, and it hasn't stopped since then.

I don't feel weary. It's just one of those things that doesn't affect me anymore.

I let out a breath, watching as the puff of air dances before me in the chill of the night, and wrap my cloak tighter around my shoulders. It's colder than I realized it would be, but I tell myself it doesn't bother me. Most things don't, anyway. Not anymore.

There are some days that I wish that none of this happened to me. There are some days that I want someone else to take my place in this world that's hell-bent on ruining my life. Ask me a year ago what I would do if someone offered to take my place for just one day, I'd do it. I'd take that chance before you were able to blink.

I'm sure Louis would do the same.

Even now, I might even take it. It definitely is a pleasant offer. All this pain, emotional stress, everything would be gone. I could be a normal girl. There would be no greater gift in the world than that. But yet, if ever given the chance, I don't think I'd do it. I've worked too hard to get to the place I am now. And I wouldn't wish this fate upon anyone, not even my worst enemy.

But as soon as I think that, I realize that's not exactly true. I already have wished it upon my worst enemy. No, I didn't wish it upon my worst enemy. I gave it to my worst enemy. I punished him like the bastard should be.

I don't know if Warren's alive, and I don't want to know. Some days I imagine hunting him down. I imagine the sensation of feeling his blood on my hands like so many others. He deserves it. He deserves every damned thing. And I don't regret any of it. I know I never will. I'll relive that day for years to come, and I'll smile every time those words fall of my lips.

Banish.

It used to bring back pain. Hell, it still does. It still hurts, and I know it always will. But when I think it now, it's not my pain that I remember. It's his.

I don't even realize the sun is rising until I hear the familiar clopping of hooves come up from behind me. On instinct my hand goes to my sword, my muscles tensing as I prepare for any incoming onslaught of danger. My comrades always made fun of me for doing it, but being oblivious will be one of their downfalls.

My hand doesn't move even as the stranger comes up next to me. The hood drawn over his face sends me unpleasant vibes. He turns his head slightly, and I catch glimpse of dark eyes before he snaps his reins and urges the horse forward. I look down and notice my knuckles are white and the tiniest bit of blood trickles down my palms from my hands balling into fists.

I release a breath and press my lips against my knuckles. "It'll be okay," I whisper to myself. I move my horse along down the road, just now realizing the market and port is less than a half mile from where I am, so close I can see the storekeepers opening up shop and the merchants setting up their stands.

My fingers tingle in anticipation as I enter the small town. It's the smallest one I could find with a port. I'm still a wanted woman, and since this is one of the poorest areas in England people would turn me in for the smallest bit of silver.

Already, women with their children hurry along the street, scolding them as they pull away. I don't miss the several dirty looks I get. I realize suddenly that horses are coveted in poorer areas, as well as more fashionable clothes. Of course, I never wear anything that can't be fought in, but apparently the mere quality of fabric is considered better in this town.

I was always told to blend in. Standing out is dangerous. And now that's exactly what I'm doing.

I force my gaze straight ahead of me and don't make eye contact with any more people. Fear nags at my stomach as I pass a group of several men that stare me down. I grip the reins of my horse even tighter as I focus on getting to the ticket office. I just have to get to the ticket office. That's it. Just a little longer and then everything will be okay.

I gasp as I fly through the air. For a split second I'm off the ground, the rush of air pulling hair loose and sending shivering spells down my back. And the next I hit the ground with dizzying force. It takes me a second to realize what's happened, but it's not like I can do a lot about it.

My horse hates snakes. Most I encounter do, actually, and the shady-looking men the surround it seem to know that as well, judging by the dead snake one of them holds in their hand.

"You get the horse," one of the men growls to another, "and I'll get the girl."

My vision swims with black dots for what feels like the longest time. I try to stand, but my side screams in pain. I had to have broken something. How wonderful.

Before I'm done trying to figure out what's happening, hands wrap around my shoulders and yank me to my feet. I hiss in pain. I realize then exactly who holds me, and, just as I suspected, it's the damned men that are currently taking my horse.

"Hey, pretty thing," a man drawls, pressing my back into a wall.

I start to panic. My eyes quickly survey my surroundings, and I realize exactly how many men surround me. There's four at least. "Let me go," I choke out, reaching for my sword. One of the men pin my arms above my head. I gasp and try to wriggle from his grasp, but another set of arms forces me back against the wall.

"We're going to have a lot of fun with you," one of them whispers.

I growl plant my foot firmly into his shin. "Help!" I'm not the one to usually scream, but there are certain times you have to let go of pride. "Someone, help me!"

But no passersby even glance my way. I understand then that this is the gang that controls the town and its officials. Maybe they don't even have any officials anymore. These are their officials, and they have to obey them.

"Let me go, damn it!"

"Keep screaming. It makes everything better." He takes out a knife and presses it against me throat. I resist the urge to swallow.

Slowly, he slides up my skirt and trails his fingers down my hip. I clench my jaw and close my eyes. The knife loosens on my neck as he presses further against me. "We'll do it here first, and then we'll take you into that inn and I'll let my brothers have a turn with you."

Andrew was right. I shouldn't have left. If I hadn't I wouldn't be in this situation and everything would be okay. I'll never see Louis now. These sick monsters won't let me out of this alive. It's just a part of their game. They'll rob me, have their way with me, slit my throat, and leave me bleeding in an alley somewhere.

"Please stop," I whisper. My last plea.

His fingers dig into my thigh, and that's answer enough.

"Let her go," a voice says, but I'm sure it's in my head. This is how I'm supposed to die. No one's supposed to come.

The man's fingers loosen slightly. If I survive this I can't imagine what these bruises will look like tomorrow.

"What?" the man says. I open my eyes and gasp as a cloaked man stands behind the group surrounding me.

"I said to let her go," the cloaked man spats. He takes a step toward us to only be met with a knife pointed to his chest. With a tactical brilliance, the cloaked man grabs his attacker's wrist and snaps it. The man's eyes widens and he shouts in pain, his wrist probably shattered. The cloaked man pulls a sword out of his hilt and presses the blade against one of the other's throats. "I'm giving you all to the count of three to run. Leave the girl behind. One."

The group's eyes meet in newfound urgency. I can tell what they silently debate.

"Two."

They're asking if I'm worth it. More like asking if it's worth it for this man to show them up in front of everyone. This is what worried me the most. Men like this don't care who dies as long as they keep their damned honor.

"Three."

In almost a blink of an eye, the sword glistens in the newly-risen sun and slices across the first man's throat. I avert my eyes as he crumples to the ground. Within seconds, every man surrounding me is gone, and I crumple to the ground, my side screaming in pain. As much as I resist it, the man—my savior—lifts me into his arms.

"It'll be okay," he whispers.

My hands shake viciously, a firm reminder of what just happened. "Please… I'm fine. Just let me down."

"Why do women insist these things? You were nearly killed and you expect me to let you go on your merry way? You know you're considered a target now, correct? These men will come and find you and they will kill you. Well, not right away at least. First they'll rape you, every one of them, and then they'll torture you, and then they'll kill you, and then they'll hang your body in the square. Trust me. I know this town."

Despite the spinning in my head, I force myself out of his grip and stand my ground in front of him. "You don't think I know that? I'm not stupid. Besides, I don't know you. For all I know you're one of them."

The man laughs. I snarl at the infuriating noise. "I don't know who you are, girl, but I think it's quite apparent I just killed a man for you."

I narrow my eyes, turning around to walk away. "You say this as if it's normal for you."

I can hear him behind me as he says, "Perhaps it is, though, in my defense, you seem rather unfazed as well."

That got me. I honestly don't realize who dies and who lives anymore. It's all the same to me at this point. I stop abruptly and turn around to face him. "What do you want from me?"

"What?"

"What do you want for saving me?"

"I never said I wanted something."

"You're a man. You always want something in return. What? Money? I'm afraid they took everything when they stole my horse. Sex maybe? Well, I'm stupid and inexperienced."

The man laughs. Though I can't see his entire face, I can slightly see the corners of his mouth twitch up. "I assure you I am perfectly able to get sex without killing a man."

Redness coats my cheeks. I turn away and start quickly walking down the road. I don't bother looking back at him, but I can feel his eyes watching me. Or, better yet, his footsteps as he walks just behind me.

"Where are you going?" he asks, and I inwardly cringe.

"Prying is rude, you know. But if you must know, I'm trying to find a ship."

"And where are you going on said ship?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"Says who, your husband?" His fingers nimbly grab my left hand and raises it up for me to see. "Try again."

"I don't have to answer to you. I don't even know your name."

"Likewise."

I jerk my hand back and start walking faster down the road. "You're a roach. Leave me alone."

"I just saved your life, and I'm the roach here?"

He doesn't get angry like I expect him to. His voice is relatively calm, but there's the slighestt bit of annoyance hanging onto it.

"You're the roach because you're harassing me. Let me go," I demand.

He chuckles darkly and drops my arm. "Just know that you won't find a decent ship here." He turns away from me, leaving me gawking at him.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you don't have a single crown on you. Did you think about that?"

I blush, suddenly remembering all my money was taken with my horse. Why hadn't I thought of that? I never plan for these things. Again, he turns away, making his way through the crowd. I cringe, knowing what I have to do. "Hey! Wait!" I start running toward him, desperate not to lose him in the crowd that's now forming in the streets. "Please,

stop!" He doesn't stop for me, and I start losing hope. I'm stuck in a strange town with no money, no horse, and men who want me dead. "Please, help me."

He stops dead in his tracks and slowly looks over his shoulder. I stand directly behind him, my eyes pleading. I never thought I'd be this desperate for someone's help, let alone a total stranger.

He faces me. "Where do you want to go?"

* * *

 **(A/N: Hey, guys! Who's ready for a new chapter? I know I am! Ahhhhh. I can't believe it's already been five weeks! There's lots of story to go, so just hang on tight!**

 **Anyway, replies!**

 **Despicable Margo: Hahahaha. You're fine lol. And yes he's hot. He's gotta be hot. Hahaha**

 **Demigoddess8: Thank you!**

 **TorquaTortle: Maaaaybe *Wink wink* Hahaha I drive my mom crazy with Hamilton. Mostly because I play it 24/7 in the car. I accidentally forgot about the "soUTHERN MOTHERFUCKING DEMOCRATIC REPUBLICANS" part in "Washington On Your Side, and let's just say my dad was a little confused HA. No, I didn't! But it's true. He's hot in the painting, which never does the people justice, so I wish I could see him irl. Lmao tbh Louis might do someone on the side. I actually have no idea. I'm still deciding. :'D Did you know Thomas Jefferson made the first spinny chair?! I'M LITERALLY SITTING IN ONE OF JEFFERSON'S CREATIONS RIGHT NOW, MY OTHER TRASH SON. But Aaron Burr is literally a human disaster. Literally.**

 **PrincessGeekelle: I knoooow. Trust me. It's insane. I should be more concerned of my sanity.**

 **Blueheart: Yeah, there will most likely be AT LEAST fifty chapter! It'll be a lot of work, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Haha Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Esmee-lynn: I knooow, my bby. Ikr it's so sad. Lmao this misconception about women could very well be the death of him I love it. Yeah! I could see Louis and Renée as a couple in some kind of AU, but idk. Marina is absolutely amazing. She's not that popular here, either, but I have met a few people who know her!**

 **Decembra1998: I think I mentioned his name a few times, but idk where haha. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Lasting Violet: Maaaaybe. Ohhh yeah. Most people don't know about the female musketeers, but maybe that's a good thing. Like, SURPRISE. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Sorry replies were so short, but I've got a busy day! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	6. A Beautiful Solace

_Louis_

* * *

It turns out that you have a lot more work when you're not a puppet. That's what I realize as I sit, reading over the documents I had received mere hours ago. It's tiring and mundane, but I don't mind it as much as I did years ago. It keeps me distracted, which is something I'm always grateful for.

I haven't had a good night's sleep in years, not since Corinne vanished from my life. I never realized exactly how tired I was until I saw the dark circles under my eyes. It's a hard reality to live in, but it's still very much my reality. I can only pray to God that someday it won't be like this, that someday maybe—just maybe—I can actually be happy.

There's a slight tapping on my door. Ecstatic for the excuse to take a break, I almost giddily yell, "Come in."

The door opens, and I'm greeted by the familiar face of Monsieur Tréville. I blink a few times to make sure that my lack of sleep hasn't made me hallucinate, but even so, he still stands there leaning on his cane.

I jump up to my feet, and walk toward him.

"Your Majes—oof!"

He's mid-bow when my arms wrap around him. "My God, Tréville. Don't bow for me. Never. You've known me since birth. You're like a father to me." I release him and press my lips together.

Tréville chuckles and makes his way toward on of the chairs in front of my desk. I hadn't realized how old he'd gotten, but it's evident by the groan of pain he makes as he sits. "It's been a very long time, Louis. What, five, six years?"

Slight smile spreads across my lips. "Seven."

He whistles. "I'm sorry I haven't visited. I… I heard what happened, and—"

"Don't apologize," I say, cutting him off. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know it isn't, but it still hurts me to know you suffered in my absence." He lets out a shaky breath and looks me intensely in the eye. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Is it true she came back?"

Despite knowing the question was coming, it still catches me off guard. It's still a topic that is spoken of very little in this castle. "Yes," I whisper meekly. "Yes, it's true."

I can sense he feels guilt from what happened on that day nearly ten years ago. He was the one who helped beat her, though he should know it wasn't his decision. He didn't agree with me when I told him what happened, he didn't think Corinne was capable of doing that to me. And he was right. I was so overwhelmed with anger that I hadn't realized how blind I was.

"She knew what the risk was of coming back. Why did she? If anything I thought she'd loathe you for the rest of her life and not ever want to see your face again."

I let out a laugh. "That's probably what she would've done, but… she came to me before she left, and we made amends. I told her to come back in eight years."

"The law," he whispers. "I had no idea that was still in effect."

"I know. I… I happened to read about it during my studies a few months before. God knows I needed it." I wipe my hand over my face. "Well, anyway, Corinne and I lived apart, but I never quit loving her. But after you left and Baudin took over… things got worse. Philippe came back, things happened, and before I knew it everything we had worked for—safety, prosperity—was ruined. I was just there for fun. They didn't need me. They could've killed me if they wanted."

Tréville sighs. "Louis, I-I'm so sorry. If I had known—"

"But you didn't. It doesn't matter, anyway. Things are okay now."

"Then where's Corinne?"

That question feels like Philippe's wip as it cracks down on my back. She… She left."

"What?"

"She doesn't feel the same about me anymore. She met someone else."

Tréville blinks in shock. "But I thought she came here for you."

I lean back in my chair. "She did. It just didn't work out the way we thought."

"So she's married then?"

I shake my head.

"Engaged?"

"No."

"Courting?"

"He's dead, Tréville. She was engaged, but now he's dead. We weren't on good terms to begin with. The main fact of it all is that she doesn't have any feelings for me, and she's gone."

"Louis," Tréville says, his voice soft, "maybe it's time to consider another option."

And all at once, I realize what he's here for. "The advisors talked you into this, didn't they? They want you to come down here and ask me to consider marriage? Well, I won't."

"Louis, you have to understand. You're 33 years old. You're past the age that most men have children. And not only that, but you're the King of France. You need heirs to carry on your line. Just consider. Please."

I don't want to. I honestly don't. But I know it's something I have to consider. I have to marry someone and give the monarchy an heir. This is how it's been for generations

"I will, Tréville. I promise."

He stands up and shakes my hand. "What a man you've become, Louis."

I so desperately wish I could agree with him.

I've been staring at the same piece of paper for an hour. I had been working steadily before Tréville arrived, but now I can't seem get through three sentences. After a while the words just blur together, and I can't tell them apart. I remove my spectacles and rub my eyes wearily. Sometimes I wish Philippe was back just to do the paperwork, but then I remember everything Philippe's done. He doesn't deserve this crown.

And neither do I if I'm perfectly honest.

I can't do this anymore. I sigh and stand up. I just need a break, and then I'll get back to work. I exit my office and walk slowly down the hallway, thankful for the cool breeze that blows through an open window. It's more comforting than I'd like to admit. It reminds me of the cool fingers of my mother when she touched my face.

I shake that thought away. There's no point in dwelling on the past. Though, it's hard not to. At this point that's all I can do. What do I have to look forward to in the future? I don't have a wife, family, or children. The one woman I ever loved left me. I'm not even sure why I have the will to live anymore. My life, it's… it's not worth anything to anyone. I'm just here because it's my birthright, because I am who I am. I didn't work for this. I don't deserve this. There are so many other people in this world that have suffered, and I stand here in luxury that surpasses any other.

I don't intend to end my life, but that doesn't mean someone else shouldn't. In fact, sometimes I wish they would. It would certainly make things easier. But the only good thing I can think of is the reason I haven't given it up in the first place: I'm the only person I can guarantee won't go insane with power.

Such dark thoughts for a man so young, I know, but that's the price of living as royalty. You get used to the death, the arguments, the sacrifice after a while, but you never know how much of yourself you give up until you see someone who has everything.

As much as I hate it, Tréville has a point. I have to get married. I have to produce an heir. At this point, I don't think the advisors care anymore who I marry. Preferably someone with money, power, and a noble family, but they're at their wit's end. If Corinne wanted me—and that's a big if—I think they'd agree to our marriage in an instant.

But that can't happen. I love Corinne more than I could ever explain, but I could never force her into anything. She deserves to live her life the way she wants, and I can't stop her. In fact, I want her to do it. I want her to live the life I never could have. But that just means I have to find another woman.

With a sigh I open the passageway that leads to the file room. Though I hadn't realized it, this was where Corinne and I saw each other again for the very first time. It gives me strange memories because we had spent time in here before that as well. I remember. We'd lie down and talk to each other the whole night, then wake up entangled and exhausted but never feeling more awake. Nothing beyond that ever happened besides that, but that's all the ever needed to happen. We loved each other, and people knew it, too. Sometimes love just doesn't work out.

To my surprise, the file of Andrew Baudin sits in the corner of the room. I hadn't realized it's been so long since I'd been in here. I honestly don't remember why I was in the room when I caught Corinne in here, anyway. I had avoided it after she was gone for so long. It was probably just God screwing with me.

I drag my fingers along the files that were kept in a cabinet for my later use. At least, that's what the advisors told me when they were originally pestering me about marriage. I wonder how many of these women are still available. It's been around 12 years, so I assume very few. Of course, if any of these women were single it'd be Anna.

I smile at the name. I haven't seen her since we were children. We had always joked that we'd marry, which was very likely considering how close our families were. I didn't know this until a few years ago, but my parents were about to sign off on our engagement right before they died. Apparently the engagement was forgotten afterwards, and that's why Anna and I lost touch. In a way I'm grateful for it, but it still hurts me. She was my only friend and more likely than not she's engaged to some rich crook that wants her for bearing children.

I laugh when I realize that's exactly why the advisers want her as well. She comes from a fairly large family, and naturally that's why they expect me to marry her.

I'd never want to be sold off like that. I'd never want to marry a girl just for that. When I was young I wouldn't question it, but now I know what real love feels like, and I know it can't be taken for granted. It's precious and everyone should be given the chance to obtain it.

But I've been given too many.

I need to marry. I can't wait for Corinne to miraculously start loving me again, which is very unlikely to happen. Of course, I can't blame her for that. I can't force her to marry me, and I should know better by now than to force her. I love her too much to do that to her.

For all I know she's fallen in love with another man and forgotten all about me. I'd be slightly upset, yes, but only because she didn't tell me. Though she doesn't return my feelings I'll always be there for her, and it would hurt me if she didn't tell me she was in love. Our relationship is more complicated that most should be, but it's still the most precious to me. It always will be.

"Your Majesty?" a small voice says.

I gasp and whip my body around. I suddenly notice the little girl that's been watching me for God knows how long. "What are you doing here?"

She blinks, not noticing how desperate I am for someone to take her away. I've never been very good with children, but that's most likely only because I was never exposed to them. Corinne, however, could appease the smallest child instantly. It seemed so strange when she somehow could make them all love her, but I knew it's not something that can easily be explained.

"My mommy's here. She asked Marlene to watch me, but she's boring." This must be Aramina's daughter, Juliet I think her name was. She's been here for business with Renée, and she must've brought this one along.

I let out a breath of relief. Thank God I don't have to find the missing mother. Just the maid. "You shouldn't run off. The palace can be dangerous. Lots of stairs and glass. Very valuable things."

The little girl snorts. "I'm eight, not four. I can take care of myself. I'm not dense."

I blink in surprise. No one besides Corinne and Renée has ever spoken to me in such a way. Must be the musketeer in her.

"So what are you doing?" she asks, walking over to me and grabbing a file from the floor.

"Oh, nothing. Boring grown up stuff."

"Really?"

I nod. "Yes, and I don't think you'd be very interesting in it, so I'd suggest going to find your mother or Madame Marlene before you get in trouble."

She narrows her eyes and stands with her hands on her hips—what happened to the sweet child Aramina always seems to describe? "Are _you_ going to tell?"

A smile crosses my lips. "Maybe I will tell."

"Well, nobody likes a tattle-tale."

"But I'm the king. The king can't be a tattle-tale."

"Yes, he can. Anyone can be a tattle-tale. The ladies my mommy always gripes about tattle about each other. I heard that Aunt Corinne tattled on bad guys all the time."

My eyes widen when I hear her say "Aunt Corinne." I often forget how close they were when Corinne came back.

"Louis, did you know Aunt Corinne?"

My throat tightens. Did I know her? My God, the question hurts. "Y-Yes, I knew her." My mind completely ignores the fact she called me by my name. In a way, it feels better.

"Would you tell me about her?"

That catches me off guard. "Why?"

"I met her a long time ago, and… things happened, and mommy wouldn't tell me anything about her."

"I don't want to defy your mother."

"But you're the king. You can do whatever you want."

I laugh. "That is far from the truth. You see, your mother and your Aunts would never allow me to do whatever I wanted. The advisors wouldn't let me. My cousin wouldn't let me. It's not as easy as you may think. But to answer your question, your Aunt Corinne… she was a very special woman."

"Really?"

"Yes, very much so. When she was 17, she came to Paris to be a Musketeer."

The little girl blinks in surprise. "Like Aunt Renée?"

I smile. "Yes, exactly like Aunt Renée. Corinne was a very stubborn girl. She was told that girls couldn't be Musketeers over and over, but she wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Did you tell her she couldn't be a Musketeer?"

I let out a chuckle. "Yes, yes I did. And that was a mistake, mind you. She and your mother and aunts saved my life when my cousin betrayed me."

She gasps. "What did your cousin do?"

I press my lips together. Philippe is still not a very easy subject for me to talk about. "He tried to kill me."

Her eyes widen. "Really? Why?"

"Because he wanted to be king."

"Couldn't he have just asked you to be king instead? I mean, it sounds like a boring job, anyway."

I laugh, shaking my head. "My cousin wasn't that smart. But anyway, your Aunt Corinne saved me, so I made her a Musketeer." She sits down onto the floor, and I follow. "We spent a lot of time together. We rode my hot air balloon, we would walk around the castle… I fell in love with her."

The little girl smiles. "Really? Did you marry her?"

I shake my head. "No. Things happened, and… we couldn't. She had to leave Paris, but she came back eight years later. That's when she saved us all. But she was sad so she had to leave."

"Why was she sad?"

"The man she loved died."

Her eyes widen. "WHAT? ARE YOU A GHOST?"

I chuckle despite the pain in my chest. "No. She doesn't love me anymore. She fell in love with another man."

She sets a hand on my shoulder. "Sorry, kingy. That's tough."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, it's time to find Marlene."

"NO! Please, Louis, please don't make me! Tell me more about Aunt Corinne and her adventures!"

I sigh. Aramina will have my head for this, but I do it anyway. I go on and describe all of Corinne's miraculous adventures. I don't realize how late it is until Juliet's eyes close and her breathing turns deeper.

Damn it. She's sleeping, but I can't leave her in here. With shaky hands, I hoist her up into my arms and exit the passageways. She had to have followed me in here to have found me. The passageways are too intricate for her to find this by herself.

Finally, I find the guest bedroom that Aramina always spends the night in when she visits. She stands outside the room, an irritated look on her face. Upon seeing her daughter she runs over to me.

"What happened? Is she okay? Oh, God. Tell me she's alright."

I laugh and set the little girl into her arms. "She's sleeping."

Aramina stares at me, flabbergasted. " _You_ got her to sleep. _You._ Louis Bourbon." She opens the door and gently sets Juliet down onto the bed.

I roll my eyes. "Thanks for your faith in me."

Aramina closes the door and smacks me on the arm. "Shush. You're better with kids than you think, you know. I see how uncomfortable you are with children. You'd make a wonderful father."

I frown and move my gaze toward my feet. "Tréville came today."

"I know! I saw him in passing!"

"He and all the advisors want me to marry."

Aramina opens her mouth to speak but says nothing. She sets a hand on my arm and reassuringly squeezes. "Sweetie, I know this is hard for you, but you can't keep sulking back into the shadows. Corinne left almost a year ago. She made it very clear she didn't want you."

I roll my eyes. "Gee, thanks for that talk, Aramina. Very reassuring."

She sighs. "Louis, you need to look around. Keep your mind open. You won't ever find a girl like Corinne, but there might be someone out there for you. She might just be waiting for you to notice."

"If you mean yourself, Aramina, you're married. Shame on you."

She smacks me with her fan. "Oh, hush, you little—"

"It's not nice to curse, especially in front of royalty."

Aramina shakes her head, finally done with me. "Okay, Louis, just keep what I said in mind. It's late. I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Good night, Aramina."

I turn around, a scowl spread across my lips. None of this is turning out as I planned.

* * *

 **(A/N: Ahhh this is one of the my favorite Louis chapters! I feel like we can see a lot more into his character in this chapter, and that's always one of my favorite things! Also, Juliet. 'Nuff said. By the way, thank you to everyone who is reviewing! I really appreciate it!**

 **Replies:**

 **Despicable Margo: Hahaha honestly, if she weren't a virgin I feel like she'd get it on all the time. I think she'd fuck with men out of spite bc she hated Louis for a while there. Though, she wouldn't do James. Let's just say James was a prude. Lmao Haha the names will be cleared up soon, but for now I'll call him Matt. I mean, not _sooooon_ but you know, soon. Also I don't even realize most of the mysteries until after I write them I'm just proof-reading and stumble across stuff like, "Holy shit who wrote that?" hahaha my boy Matt is not shy. Let's just leave it at that *Snorts***

 **TurquaTortle: The town is bad. V bad. Don't ask how bad. Just v bad. Also yes. That man is hot. I mean idk hot to me. Just… use your imagination bc he's too hot to fancast okay. Omg omg same those characters are my sons, but like irl I hate them so fucking much. You're "whipped for a ship"? Hahahaha. Excuuuse me? _I_ should update more often? Need I remind you how much _you_ update? Hm? Mmhm that's what I thought. ;P**

 **Blueheart: Eh everyone needs help sometimes! Even the infamous Corinne. I mean, she got help from her friends, she got help from Madame Hélène. *Sings* She is only humaaaaaan. Haha thanks for reviewing!**

 **Decembra1998: I know. Corinne is such an arrogant, stubborn snob sometimes it makes me laugh. Like chill for a sec, bro. Lmao**

 **Lasting Violet: Lol We're all wackos sometimes. I think that dude might be the most sane person in this story honestly. Besides Aramina as you can see because Aramina is my darling. Oooh but things can never be as easy as buying a ticket, can it? Muahahaha.**

 **PrincessGeekelle: We are actually in Southern England, near the English Channel, and I think snakes would be more common since at this time it's much much less populated, but idk lol I'm American af sooo but no Trump. Fuck Trump. Hahaha**

 **Thanks for reviewing, everyone! It's so appreciated!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	7. A Few Things Wrong

The wine is as dark as the sky. I sip it absentmindedly, cringing at the tang as it touches my tongue. People pass by, whether in flurries or rushes I'm not sure, and soon each one starts to look the same. I can't seem to differentiate between the whores that try to seduce me or the pick-pockets or the shady looking men that glare as they walk up to their latest victims. It doesn't matter, really. They're all the same poor souls on the inside, living in squalor and destitution like the rest of us.

This girl, it seems, is very different. She sits in front of me, sporting a gown that any woman in this town would faint over. She rode into this town on a steed that any man would steal. Quite literally. And the sneer she wears on her face is most obviously one of nobler stature. No poor girl would act like she does.

She stares at me, her eyes narrowed and dangerous. I almost ask her what's got her undergarments in a twist, but I think better of it. Best to not get this one fired up. I can tell it would be a bad idea. Something tells me she would less than appreciate it.

"We've been here for hours," she hisses, clutching the table. "Where is your friend that you said would _surely_ show up?" The sarcasm in her voice makes my mouth turn upward. She'd never get away speaking like that in a noble household, though.

"Have some faith in me, won't you?" I take another sip of my wine and drum my fingers against the table.

"How can I have faith in a total stranger? I don't even know your name."

"Then make up one." There is no way in hell I'm ever telling her my name. A very select few even know my fake one. Confidentiality is a big deal in the assassination business.

"Okay, then I'll name you cherries."

She's trying to get under my skin, I know, but it's not done easily. I have an incredible amount of patience for a man from an impatient family. "Is that the best you can come up with?"

She rolls her eyes. "No, but that's what you get for right now."

"I save your life and receive the name 'cherries'? What a wonderful bond we have."

She audibly scoffs. "We—we don't have a bond. I told you I didn't need your help, and I still believe that."

"Believe whatever you want, my lady, but you know deep down they would kill you. They'd at the very least ruin your reputation."

"What do you know of my reputation, _good sir_?" She spats the title, and I inwardly cringe. "For all you know I could've already lost my virginity."

A smirk lines my lips. "You're lying."

"How do you know?"

"I can see it in your face. You're terrified about the idea of sex."

Her face visibly reddens. "I-I am not. You take that back."

So easily embarrassed. Maybe she is a noblewoman after all. Any village girl over the age of 16 wouldn't shy away from it, and she has to be at least 25. "Prude," I whisper.

"Damn you, cherries."

I let out a slight chuckle, and I'm immediately surprised at myself for it. I haven't laughed since… well, I don't know anymore. I lean forward and grasp both her hands, lifting her to her feet. "Okay, then. Come on."

"Where are we going?" she gasps as I pull her further into the tavern.

"You are going to prove to me you're not prude."

She gasps. "You're going to make me a prostitute? Damn you! Damn you to hell!"

I smile, pressing her back against a wall. "No, I want you to sleep with me."

Her eyes widen in realization as that common blush rises to her cheeks. "N-No. I won't do it."

"Why not?"

"B-Because I don't want to. You can't make me!"

"I'm not making you. I'm suggestively asking you."

Her embarrassed expression transforms into a sly smirk. "So you do need to kill a man for a woman to bed you."

"Not true."

"Tell you what, cherries. I'll bed you when you tell me your name."

"I don't need you to bed me, my lady. I doubt your father would like it much, anyway."

"My father is dead."

I take a step back from her and meet her eyes. "I-I'm sorry."

She shakes her head and starts walking back to our table. I follow. "It's—I'm fine. It doesn't matter anymore." She says this almost as if she's assuring herself instead of me.

You never truly let go of the people you've lost. You never quite fully recover from the loss of the people closest to you. They're always there haunting you, watching you, and sometimes even torturing you to the point of insanity.

I want to speak more about her family, but I don't pry anymore. I know firsthand how hard it can be to talk about those losses.

I sip my wine in complete and utter silence besides the loud, raucous singing of the drunk sailors sitting across from us. She doesn't drink anything aside from the faintest sip of ale. I'm still having trouble finding out who she is. I thought she was of nobility, but she can't be. But she isn't poor. It's completely puzzling. I'm quite good at reading people. What makes her so different?

I open my mouth to say something, but I'm cut off when a hand clasps my shoulder. Immediately I stiffen, my hand ripping the intruder off. I bolt to my feet and come face to face with Sir William Roscovich.

"Is that how you treat a friend, Matthew?" He speaks softly, but there's a slight edge to his voice. "I haven't you for years. You could at least give me a warmer welcome."

I snarl. "We did not part ways on good terms. You're lucky I want to speak to you after what you did."

"The woman was a whore, Matthew. You could do much better, you know."

"That's not the point," I hiss. "You betrayed me."

At this point my companion stands, her face etched with annoyance. "Enough with your juvenile games. I have had enough of it in my life, and I'm not wasting another second of my time on some teenage quarrell."

My face reddens I'm sure, but William's lips turn into a sly smirk. "You haven't introduced me to your friend, Matthew. How rude." He takes her hand presses a kiss to her knuckles. "Sir William Roscovich. I'm—"

"—the second cousin of Tsaritsa Praskovia," she answers for him. William blinks in awe. "Don't be so surprised. You weren't modest about flaunting it in Her Majesty Queen Mary's ball last year."

A smirk lines my lips as I turn to Will. "She won't tell me her name, but feel free to milk it from her."

William narrows his eyes at the girl, and she happily accepts his challenging stare. "What are you playing at?"

"I say, that's not how one should address a lady."

"You're not a lady, you're a _spy_."

"And you're a conniving bastard, sir."

Will turns to me. "What does she want with you, Matthew? Or should I ask, what do you want with her?"

I roll my eyes. "We both need to get to France."

"Why are you going to France, Matthew? You said you'd—"

I hold up a hand. "Not the time to discuss it, William."

"Why are you helping her, then? What has she done for you?" I can sense what Will's suggesting as his eyes rake over her body.

I grab his shoulders. "Will, I'm a grown man. I can make my own choices. What I need from you is a ship, just one big enough to cross the English Channel."

"And why should I help you?" he spats, pulling my hands off his shoulders. "We haven't talked for nearly five years, and now I receive your letter that asks me to meet you and it's about a damned ship?"

"Cut the shit, William. You know you played me. I'm just asking for what I deserve."

"Damn you, Matthew! I told you she came onto me! It wasn't my fault!"

"You still slept with her! I loved her! You know I did." I take a breath. "And that's not the point. That's not what I'm here for. I loaned you 8,000 Crowns on June 18th, 1686. If you don't give me a ship with supplies I expect all of that back with interest."

Will's face turns a vibrant red. I glance over and see my companion smirk. "I sold all my ships, but I might be able to find something." He starts backing away. "Give me an hour." With that, he runs out the tavern door.

She glances at me, her blonde hair falling out of the knot on her head, with a smirk. "That was a very sneaky move. I'm impressed. 8,000 Crowns? A little hefty don't you think? Do you really have that much?"

I sigh and sit down next to her. "It's impolite to ask that, you know."

"Since when have I ever been well-mannered?"

"I've known you for 12 hours. I don't even know your name."

"Minor details."

A small smile lines my lips. "I never loaned him money. William is easily manipulated."

Her eyes widen, impressed and almost possibly envious. "You are a sneaky ass."

"I also saved your life, so acting the tiniest bit grateful would be great."

"Oh, I know. _Matthew_."

I meet her eyes. "Will ruins everything, including my facade as you can see."

She giggles softly, a pleasant sound that makes me wonder why I enjoy it so much, and I suddenly wonder if I've had my fill in wine. "Call me it if you want, but I'd still prefer cherries."

She smiles into her ale. "Is that really your name?"

"Cherries? Of course."

"God, I hate you."

I shake my head. "No, you don't."

"What, because you save my life I can't hate you? You, Sir, are wildly mistaken. I've hated people for far better deeds."

I narrow my eyes, but I don't press the subject further. It's obvious in her eyes that it's a hard subject.

* * *

I start tothink Will's bailed, but I realize he'd know better. He may be stupid, but he is not an idiot. He knows I can find him, and he knows I show no one mercy.

Our drinks have long been taken away when William finally arrives. His usually sly smirk is gone as his runs into the tavern red-cheeked and weary. I internally commend myself. William may be my friend, but he still is an insufferable ass.

"I got you a ride on a cargo ship," he says, breathing heavily.

I stand up, narrowing my eyes. "Is that the best you could do?"

Will raises his hands in defense. "I swear, Matthew. I paid a hefty price for it, too."

My blonde companion stands as a viciously seductive smirk spreads across her lips. She presses a hand to his jaw. "We thank you for your service." With another flash of her teeth, she's halfway to the door.

William swallows and returns his eyes to me. "She's got a nice arse, I'll give her that."

I roll my eyes. "Don't even try it, William. She will eat you alive."

As I walk to join her, I hear Will shout, "And I will gladly oblige!"

* * *

Unfortunately, I can't give William much credit, but it's the best I know I can get for now. The barge is smelly and cramped, reeking of vomit and rotting fish, which is not pleasant to my stomach. I'm in awe when my dear companion is able to fall asleep. She must trust me some if she's able to let her guard down for so long.

I keep asking myself the reason I let her come with me. In all honesty, I have no idea. I'm usually so secretive with every aspect of my life. This is no different except for the fact she's even more so. The only solace I have is that she asks very little about my childhood, which is not something I'd particularly like to reflect upon.

"Are you sure he's here?" someone asks, their words slightly mumbled, though I recognize it easily as native to Oxford. I stand up and creep toward the doorway, drawing the hood over my face.

"Absolutely. Sir William Roscovich came and paid a great sum for me to give a 'friend' a ride to France. I recognized him immediately and sent for you as I said I would. I'd never disrespect His Highness."

My eyes widen as I internally. Damn it, they've found me.

"Very good, Frederich. You will be greatly rewarded."

I peak slightly out of the doorway and see who I recognize to be a worker of this ship and another man in uniform.

"Oh, uh, Captain Lloyd? There was another with him as well." My face pales.

"Another man?"

"No, Sir. A woman. Real scary-looking she was, I'll say. Could have killed a man with one look from her eye."

"Woman? What a woman be doing with Matthew Reed?"

"A lover perhaps?" I roll my eyes. He is quite mistaken.

Lloyd sighs. "No, Reed doesn't have lovers." Leave it to Captain Lloyd to know everything about my love life.

"Then who is she?"

"That's none of your concern, peasant," Lloyd snaps. "Go back to your station." I hear the distinct sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath. "I'm searching for a traitor."

I look around, uncertain of what to do next. I have a sword, but I'm nearly positive that even if I was able to fight this captain, at least 50 men from the fleet outside will surely come for me. With pistols.

With a steadying breath, I move toward my "lover" and press a firm hand to her mouth. Her eyes fly open, panicking for a moment until I press a finger to my lips. I lean down to her ear and whisper, "Stand up. We're in danger." She does as she's told and follows me further into the foul-smelling barge.

"What's happening?" she asks, her voice low, nearly silent.

I shake my head and gesture over to the bow of the ship. "I'll explain later. Please just trust me."

She nods her head and grabs my arm tightly. She's a good head shorter than me, but the worker was right. Her eyes could kill a man. "If you screw me over I swear to God I will end you." I have no doubt that she will.

"I won't. I swear."

"Then what do we have to do?"

I swipe a hand over my face. "Get off this ship without being seen by the naval ship next to us or the captain that's hunting us down."

She narrows her eyes. "What side is the ship on?"

"Right, why?"

She pulls me further back. "Come on." I don't question her as she pulls me. I know there's no point to, but I hope that she at least comes up with a solid plan. So far I've got nothing. Finally, she stops in front of one of the portholes. "Open it."

"Open it?" I raise an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You need to get off the ship, don't you? Then open it?"

"That won't work. We can't just climb down a ship on open water."

"This is not a good time for an argument, Matthew. Open the damn porthole." Again, I get fixed with that look, so I finally concede. I twist a few nobs and unlatch a few things until finally the porthole swings open.

The fresh air settles my stomach from the panic that's rising in my chest. I breathe it in greedily for a moment, but she pushes me aside. "Help me outside."

My eyes widen. "What? Why?"

"Just do it."

"You're crazy. What the Hell?"

She grabs my face, forcing our eyes to meet. "Help. Me. Matthew."

With a sigh, I lay one hand on her back, another on her leg. "There is no way in Hell you're fitting in that tiny porthole."

She smirks. "Maybe not in this dress." I nearly choke as she pulls a few petticoats from under her dress. Instantly her figure is slimmer, more… young. "Now try."

I grab her again, and now with only the top layer of her dress, she just fits through the porthole. I nearly shout when she drops, but when I look down I see she's only fallen into an old rowboat. I nearly laugh. "You could've told me about that before letting me put up such a fuss."

"And ruin the fun? Never."

"On a more serious note, there is no way I can fit through that porthole. I'm afraid there's no petticoats under any of this."

"Well, guess you'll have to find your own way out then." Within one second, she pulls out a dagger and cuts the ropes connecting the rowboat to the barge. She falls, leaving me to fend for myself.

"You bitch," I hiss.

"Your companion leave you, Matthew?" a voice asks from behind me.

I whip my body around and pull a sword from my sheath, meeting Captain Llloyd's eyes. "She doesn't matter to me."

"Oh, but I think she does. If she didn't you wouldn't have kept her alive for this long."

He's not wrong, I'll admit. Even if not by my hand, she'd probably be dead. "What do you want with me?"

Captain Lloyd smiles viciously, watching my every move. " _I_ don't want you. Prince Henry wants you."

"Well, then what does Prince Henry want with me?" I can't see why any sane English royal would have any use of me. Then again, maybe the inbreeding's gone to their heads.

"I am not permitted to disclose that, Sir, but you can find it if you come with us quietly and find out."

I laugh. "That's not happening."

"Then I have no choice but to take you." Before I can blink, he charges at me, swinging his blade with such force that I stumble when I meet it. For a slim man he is quite strong. I'm able to keep up with him for a few minutes, but he starts moving in toward me. "Matthew, just give up. I have dozens of men on that ship outside. You know you're no match for them."

"It doesn't matter to me."

"Oh, but it does." He pins our swords near to my throat. "Not only will my men come in and get you, they'll also get your female companion."

"You're lying," I hiss.

"Am I?" I suddenly notice the guard at the door that watches us intently. Lloyd turns to him and says, "Retrieve the girl and bring her back to me."

"You don't want her," I say quickly. "She's… a whore and—and she'll be a bitch to everyone and—"

"You're coming with me, Matthew. Whether it's with the girl or not is your choice."

"No. No, I won't. I can't."

"Suit yourself." Arms wrap around me, effectively pinning me back. Redcoat officers drag me onto the main deck of the ship. I struggle, but I realize there's no point. I'm damned anyway.

After a few minutes of waiting, a certain blonde with wet, matted hair is dragged onto the main deck. I hear her screaming, though I don't hear exactly what she's saying until she's closer. "Let me go, you damn cockroaches! Get your hands off me!"

Captain Lloyd walks over to her, an unsettling smirk lining his face. "Yes, I think I know what to do with her. Since I have no need for a wench, perhaps I'll give her to Prince Henry as an extra gift. Along with you, Matthew, I'm sure to get my promotion."

Of fucking course. Of course ruining my life is some damned game to him. "I'm sorry," I say to my former companion, though I'm quite certain it's me she owes the apology to.

She shakes her head. "Later." And then, to my distaste, she turns to Lloyd. "You should know, Sir, that I am _done_ with being talked about as a prize for a man."

"I'm sure you are," Lloyd replies. "You are a very spirited woman as I can see. Matthew was not wrong."

"What do you even want with him? He's not even that special." I roll my eyes and send her a pointed look.

Lloyd sighs and turns to his men. "Load them up. I need them back to London by tomorrow evening. Do you understand?"

They men affirm themselves and grab us. With both of our hands bound, it's practically useless to try and struggle, but that doesn't stop my dear companion from shouting obscene words at our captors. Not like the situation could get any worse for me.

No, that's not true. I should know by now that things will _always_ get worse for me.

* * *

 **(A/N: AHHH SUCH AN INTENSE CHAPTER. I honestly forgot like half of the stuff that happened in here because it's been like two months, but oh well haha. I've gotten into more of a groove with writing again, and I'm close to being finished with chapter 11! By the way, if you're looking forward to them getting to Paris, we've got a loooong way to go ;)**

 **Replies!**

 **Despicable Margo: HAHA She's just a kid lol I mean, we were all kids once. Haha most chapters will have trigger warnings for swearing, but I'm not going to put one on every chapter. You could probably some more trigger warning chapters in the next few, though, haha!**

 **TurquaTortle: Omggg he is hot. I gotta watch it now lol. You can always tempt me to watch stuff with hot guys, okay. Ikr Louis is so old now. HE'S NOT A LITTLE BABY ANYMORE NOOOO. OMG SAME OKAY I ABSOLUTELY LOVE HOW FATHER/SON IT IS BC LOUIS NEEDS FATHERLY SUPPORT IN HIS LIFE AND TRÉVILLE IS JUST WONDERFUL! Haha I love Juliet too, okay, she reminds me of myself tbh even though I was shy af at that age. HAHA same tbh. I'm a sucker for gentle men that like children. Omg Yes Aramina is the best, such a mom friend. I absolutely love her.**

 **blueheart: Haha Juliet's name is such a coincidence actually, but it really does fit her well! Yeah, I totally agree! (not saying that's how it will end though! haha) After everything they've gone through I think they needed a break from all this love stuff.**

 **Lasting Violet: Yep, and it suuuucks. I don't want Louis to marry some random girl but erghhh. (I may be the author, but trust me, I don't get any say in what happens.) Honestly, I love Juliet. She's sassy af and I love it. Hahaha let's just bring random kids into the palace for bonding HA I'll consider. ;)**

 **eirinistamath: AHH Thanks! Unfortunately, I can't update more than once a week because I'll get behind, so I'll have to stay on my once-a-week schedule.**

 **PrincessGeekelle: I knooow. Louis my bby.**

 **Decembra1998: Ughhh I know the poor baby. Lol it wouldn't be weird. Probably. Tbh I'd just randohug him. Hahaha**

 **Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	8. Vive Le France

_Corinne_

* * *

I can't fucking believe this.

I knew it wasn't a good idea to accept Matthew's help, but this has reached a new level. I was in several predicaments as a Musketeer, I'll admit, but that was always for being a soldier and obeying my commands. There is no way in _hell_ I'm being taken to England to be some stuck up prince's plaything.

Matthew doesn't seem like one to give up easily. I can tell because he looks like hell. He must've really had a fight with Lloyd. He may be quite an ass, but it doesn't seem like he deserves what's happening to him. Then again, I met him only yesterday. Who knows what he's done if such a pompous as Prince Henry wants him.

The officers obey their captain's orders to have us loaded up without delay. I still struggle in their grasp. I've got nothing to lose at this point. Maybe if I'm lucky Andrew will have heard about my situation and bust me out, though, I'm not sure that's much better than what I'm facing right now. I'm bound to get the verbal lashing of my life.

After we're forced onto their ship, they push us into a room no bigger than a closet. This ship is obviously not suited for prisoners or else we'd be put in a cell. I can't see Matthew well with only a speck of light seeping into the room, but his breaths are loud and shaky.

"Damn it."

"Great plan," I growl. "Now you're getting us both killed."

"If you hadn't left me, maybe we'd actually have a chance!"

I shove him, though not convincingly enough. "You don't know the Hell I've gone through. I'm done watching out for people."

"No, _you_ don't know the hell _I've_ gone through. Maybe think about something besides yourself for once in your life."

I want to argue, but there's too much truth in his words. All this time I've been thinking only of what I need. Matthew saved me from imminent death despite not needing to. He took me with him to France despite not needing to. This whole time he's stuck by my side, and what did I do? I abandoned him. I abandoned him when he needed my help the most.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "We'll find our way out of this. I promise. We're too good to be Prince Henry's."

"Maybe you aren't."

"What did you do to him anyway? Steal his girl?"

He chuckles, but it's not genuine. "No, unfortunately. My fate would be much better if I had. Maybe a year or two on the dungeon?"

"That's it?" Doesn't sound much better to me.

"Well, I did some bad things while in England and Prince Henry doesn't like me very much."

"You've met?"

"Yes. He's stupidly attractive, sleeps with the maids, and kicks puppies for a living. Both of his brothers are exactly the same."

I smile. "And you know this how?"

"I… used to work there."

He's lying. I'm sure of it. I may have only known Matthew for a day, but I've already picked up on certain things. He always casts his eyes down when he lies. He's good at masking it—must've learned from an expert—but I've learned things throughout the years.

All the same, I don't question him. Instead we stand in silence, closer than I'm comfortable with. Our chests are pressed together, and I can feel his breath on my skin. A shiver passes down my spine, but it's not due to Matthew. My dress is soaked from waist down. The officers would do anything to get me onto that ship, even drag me through freezing water.

"I can't go back there," he whispers. "I just can't. I worked too hard to get where I am today."

"We won't, Matthew. We'll get out of here. It'll be okay."

He doesn't reply to me, but I doubt he believes me. It shocks me how vulnerable he sounds. I'm so used to his gruff, serious voice, but now he sounds so much younger, so innocent. I wonder how many horrors of the world he's seen to make him like this.

We don't speak for the rest of the night. Eventually the deck quiets down and no other voices are heard. I can't rest, if not for my restraints or my uncomfortable quarters, then for the situation I'm in. Matthew almost seems like he's sleeping, but I know he couldn't be.

My hands shake unwillingly. The cold is really getting to me at this point the night, but I'm just glad we're not out in the main deck where the wind is relentless. But all the same, at this rate I'd be near-death by the time we got back to England.

"Are you okay?" Matthew asks, his breath pleasingly warm.

"I-I… cold."

"I-I'd offer you my coat, but I'm currently in a predicament."

I let out the slightest laugh. "I know."

He's already pressed against me, but I can tell he's doing even more so. I can feel the heat rising to my face, and I'm suddenly thankful for the dark. My back presses against the wall as his body flushes against mine. His nose brushes my neck, his breath sending pleasurable heat to my chest. Despite being embarrassed by our situation, I can't deny the warmth it gives me.

"Is that better?" he whispers.

I nod. "Yes."

This isn't my first time pressed against a wall. Most of those were in very different situations, but a very similar positions. Most were with Louis, I'll admit. Clothes would be scattered, kisses exchanged, and promises that would never be kept. The same thing happened with James. It's a vicious cycle that I have vowed never to repeat.

The door creaks open, and I gasp. Matthew jumps back, leaving me longing for his warmth as wind comes and chills me to the bone. A Redcoat stands there, his face urgent yet amused. "You two cozying up to each other, I see."

"What do you want?" I snarl.

The officer looks taken back but shakes his head. "There's no time to explain. All I can say is I'm here to get you out. Come with me."

Matthew and I glance at each other, but I nod at him to go. Whether it's a hoax or not, it's our only chance. As Matthew steps out of the closet, the officer pulls out a knife. "My name's Carl, Carl Wentworth. My father served in the French military." As he starts cutting the rope that binds Matthew's hand, I study the officer. He's very young, no more than 17, but there's age in his voice. He's seen things.

"I work for King Louis."

I choke at the name. "You do?"

"Yeah. I can't say a lot, but I know Matthew holds citizenship in France. I'm not sure about you, Miss, but by the order of the king you have rights to enter his country."

I glance at Matthew, his hands free of rope. "Matthew ceased to mention he had ties to the king." What else has he kept from me?

"I don't have ties to him. I just have rights as a citizen of France."

Within another minute, my hands are free, and Carl slides his knife back into his sheath. "You must be silent now. I'm going to get you out of here." We follow him over to the side of the ship. Again, to my dismay, there's another rowboat. "This will have supplies for a few days, not that you'd need it."

Matthew nods, though I know he's not too fond of his. "What if—" But his words don't need to be spoken.

"ALERT! PRISONERS ESCAPING!" Within seconds of their comrade's shout, several officers emerge from underdeck.

"Go!" Carl shouts, pulling a pistol from his belt.

"But what about you?" I ask as Matthew's hand wraps around my wrist, yanking me toward the boat.

"Go! You only need to get to that rock!" He points into the distance, and through the haze of the night, I can see the slightest outline of a rock. "That marks the French borders. We can't go beyond that."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"I have a plan."

"Hey! Come on." Matthew wrap an arm around me and lifts me down into the boat. I gasp as a gun fires, but I'm relieved when I see Carl hasn't been hit. Within seconds, we're falling down to the water. We land, but the impact sends me flying out of the boat.

The water stings my eyes. That's the first thing I notice. My vision blurs as I suddenly realize my lack of oxygen. I open my mouth to scream for help, but that obviously doesn't help. I start to panic, but an arm wraps around me, and I'm lifted out.

Gunshots still go off. For a moment I think their target is Carl, but he still stands at the edge of the ship. Most of them don't have guns on hand after being woken in the middle of the night. Instead, I realize they're aimed at us.

A bullet flies past my face, missing me by a centimeter.

I choke out water as Matthew rows us. Thankfully it's not a heavy boat, manageable for one man to row. I sit up and grab a paddle to help, but that's when I see the crimson blood on my paddle.

"Matthew, what happened? Are you okay?"

His face is scrunched up in what I thought was concentration, but blood runs down his arm. That's not an expression of concentration, that's an expression of pain. "Just keep rowing," he hisses.

The rock is closer than I realized. We're not a quarter-mile from it. I can still see the battle on the ship that takes place. Carl seems to be throwing liquid around the deck. It's too dark to be water. In fact, it's pure black. No guns fire, and that's when I realize exactly what it is.

The rock is so close. Just a few minutes more and we'd be free. I'd be free. I help Matthew as best I can, but I know it's him doing most of the work. I row as hard as I can, but it makes little difference.

"Matthew, you need help. Where'd the bullet hit you?"

His face is twisted in agony. "I-I'm fine."

"No, you aren't. Take a break. We'll be fine."

He shakes his head. "No, we won't. They'll send out their boats, and they will come and get us. I can't go back there."

"I know you can't, but you have to take it easy. It won't be good for either us of us if you die right now."

He secures the paddles onto the boat and lies back. "It's my arm."

I crawl over to him and gingerly press my hand to his elbow. The bullet hit him, but it wasn't imbedded anywhere. It's really just a matter of cleaning it and making sure he doesn't bleed to death. How easy.

"Okay. Okay, this will be all right. It'll be fine. We'll get past the rock and we'll get help."

"From who? Who will help two fugitives get medical help?"

I grab his knife and cut off the sleeve of his shirt. "We're not fugitives in France."

"Oh, I am. I'm a fugitive everywhere."

"Oh, shut up." The gash on his arm bleeds profusely, staining my dress a deep red. I grab our supply kit and find a few near-moldy loaves of bread, some water, bandages, and… whiskey. Damn English. I pour the whiskey onto his gash, and he lets out a shriek.

"My God, Woman!"

"Call me woman again, and I will push you off this boat." He shuts his mouth and starts grumbling, but I can see the slight smile on his face. I wrap the bandages around his arms. I curse myself for blushing when I feel the tight skin of his muscles. Being a fugitive must do amazing things to your body.

I start rowing the boat as I watch Carl stand there behind his platform of oil, a match in his hand. And as we pass the rock that marks the end of England, I can only hear him shout one thing as he drops the match:

"VIVE LA FRANCE!"

* * *

 **(A/N: Ahhh this scene fucked me up. Real. Good. Pretty much all of it tbh. Just wait til the next few chapters, though, because it is getting INTENSE here soon.**

 **Replies!**

 **PrincessGeekelle: Charles I didn't actually have any children, so I just made them up. I wish I didn't have to, though, because that kinda bummed me out. :/**

 **TorquaTortle: HAHA You're such a fangirl, probably more than me. Ikr Matthew is horrible bc he's the type of personality I love in fictional dudes and aghhhhh He is good lookin trust me hehehe William is such a fuckboy honestly. That Russian party interests me, though, I'll have to mention it sometime again. You literally always sail my ships and I love it okay you go glen coco. HONESTLY THO ARAMINA IS LIFE.**

 **Thanks for reviewing! I really appreciate it!**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	9. Farewell To Death

Matthew

The screams of the men on the ship pierce my ears. I can still hear them as they scream for help while being burned alive. Within seconds after Carl dropping the match, the ship went up in flames. Apparently Carl knew he'd die this whole time. He'd cut all but one lifeboat from the ship and locked the door to the gun cellar. The officers didn't have a chance. It was only by chance that some officer had a gun on hand that I got shot.

The air chills me to the bone, and I can only imagine what it does to her. She sits, her back to me, and shivers as the wind blows to her directly. You'd think these officers would pack a blanket or two while sailing during October, but apparently they weren't that smart, unfortunately for us.

"Hey," I say, teeth chattering, "are you okay?"

She shakes her head. "No."

I gingerly press my hand to her shoulder. Her clothing is soaked, and she's absolutely freezing. "My God. Come here." She slides over to me without much dispute. I doubt she has any argument in her at this point. I start unbuttoning her clothing, but she pulls away.

"W-What are you doing?"

"Saving your damn life." She doesn't question me again as I strip her down to her undergarments. Her lips are blue, her skin cold as ice. Much more of this and she'd be dead by morning. Finally, I unlace her corset and press herself to me.

"I'm so cold," she whispers, her voice shaky.

I run a hand down her neck. "I know." I pull her down to the floor of the boat and remove my coat, wrapping it around her. I pull gloves from a pocket and put them on her feet. "We're almost to land, less than a kilometer. It'll be okay."

She still shivers, but a smile lines her lips. "Why are you helping me after all the trouble I've put you through?"

I let out a sigh. That's a question I've been asking myself for quite some time. "Because it's the right thing to do." The right thing it may be, but we both know I'm lying.

"H-How's your arm?" she whispers, her breath puffing out from the cold.

Truth be told, I hadn't thought much about my arm until now. I've had plenty of injuries throughout my line of work, and this has definitely be one of my least obtrusive. "I'll probably need stitches if we ever get into a town, but other than that I'm perfectly fine." But I'm not fine. I never will be fine. I haven't been fine since I was banished from my home by my father's wife.

"

"I'm sorry this is happening to you. You don't deserve it."

A smile tugs at my lips. "Trust me. I deserve this and more for all I've done."

"And what have you done, Matthew?"

The question catches me off guard, though it shouldn't. I should know by now that she'll question anything and everything about me. "I'll tell you what I've done when you tell me your name."

Her eyes narrow, though I can see the playfulness dancing in them. "Touché."

We say nothing for a few minutes, the only sounds being shaky breaths and the steady splashes of the water. Even with my clothing, she's still chilled to the bone. Even with my clothing, she won't make it to the morning. We need help, and we need it fast. If God ever did show any liking to me whatsoever, this would be the time to show it, if not for my sake, then for hers.

"It doesn't matter, you know," she whispers, her voice so faint that I almost miss it.

"What doesn't?" I take her hand and run my fingers down them, hoping to warm them at least a little.

"If I die. It doesn't matter."

I shake my head. "It matters to me."

"You just met me. How could it matter to you?"

"Do you realize how much easier this could've been if I just let those men have you? You've been a real pain in my ass."

She lets out the slightest laugh, her breath clouding. "That doesn't answer my question."

"You matter to me, unknown female, because I've risked a lot for you. I've risked my life on several occasions."

She scoffs. "Excuse me, but I believe most of the problems we encountered were because of you. And it doesn't help that apparently you're very popular with Prince Henry."

"Prince Henry is snobbish pig that can't find a woman to marry him so he beds all the maids instead."

She snorts. "And you know this how?"

I shrug. "I used to work there, remember?"

Rolling her eyes, she says, "Whatever you say, Matthew. If that even is your real name."

I open my mouth to answer her, but out of the corner of my eye, I see a light flash. "My God," I breathe.

"What?"

"A ship."

She sits up, wrapping my coat tighter around her shoulders. "English?"

I narrow my eyes, searching for anything that could identify the English. The only thing that could be worse is pirates. The lights on the ship are dim , but they're close enough for me to see the slightest tint of blue. "No, French."

She closes her eyes and lets out a relieved laugh. "Thank the Lord."

"Don't get too excited yet. We don't know if they've even seen us yet." I look off into the waters again. "Do you have anything to signal?"

She grabs the supply box and digs around in it for a moment. "Matthew," she breathes, "look."

I glance at her, and my eyes immediately find the weapon she holds in her hands. "My God." I grab the pistol and run my fingers across its metal. "Carl was a gift from the heavens." Cautiously, I aim the gun toward the sky and fire. The sounds pangs violently in my ears, but I force myself to shake it off. I fire again, hoping to get the ship's attention, but after waiting a few minutes, they make no motion to come.

"Give me the gun, Matthew."

I glance at her and send her a strange look. "What?"

"Give me the damn gun." I obey her, but shock does not wear off my face. "How many bullets do we have?"

"Uh, five, I think."

"They're watching us, you know."

I furrow my eyebrows. "What?"

"They're watching to see what we do. It's a tactic. They can wait for weeks if they find us interesting enough."

"Well, we can't wait for weeks."

"You don't think I know that?"

"You're a woman. I don't exactly automatically assume you're educated in militia tactics or weaponry."

A fierce smirk spreads across her face, and I suddenly believe I made a mistake. "Watch me, Matthew." One shot. Another seconds later. Another. And then another once more after ten seconds.

"You just used most of our bullets," I hiss.

And then I hear a shot. But it's not from our gun.

A smirk lines her lips. "What was that about women not knowing militia tactics?"

Another shot.

"What did you do?"

Another shot.

"I saved our asses."

Another shot.

She lifts up the gun and fires, discarding our last bullet. The ship's masts shift, and then they're coming right for us. "How…?"

"Don't disrespect women, Matthew. It not only makes you seem like a prick, but it also proves your raw insignificance to this world."

To my dismay, my cheeks redden. I haven't blushed over a women since I was 16 years old. I open my mouth to say something, but the look in her eye tells me to keep my mouth shut. I don't even realize how long we're waiting until the ship is not 100 feet from us.

"Who are you and what do you need?" a man shouts.

"Citizens of France! We've capsized from our ship!" I shout. Not technically a lie. I'm a citizen of France, and we have capsized.

After a moment of silence, they drop us a rope ladder. "Come up then, but make haste."

She sends me a smug glance and reaches for the ladder first. As she takes a few steps, I stand there, baffled. God, what have I done? Shaking my head, I follow her up the ladder, my arm burning with the strain. By the time I make it up, she's already deep in conversation with a crew member.

"Please, Sir. We just need medical attention and safe place to rest for a few hours."

The officer sighs. "I don't think it's possible, ma'am."

She slips her palm out, letting it face the officer. "Please reconsider."

His face grows white. I lean over to see her hand, but she slides it into my coat. Finally, the officer says, "I'll… find something for you, ma'am." He turns away, heading back into his quarters.

The ship is vibrant and full of life, quite different from the one we were just on. The blue informs are quite comforting to me after years of seeing red. It makes me feel safe. It almost feels like home.

I push the thought away before I can dwell much on it. The important thing is we're not much farther from Paris. It's still a long journey, but each step brings us closer. Hopefully it gets much better after this particular one.

"What'd you say to him?" I ask her.

"Nothing," she replies, brushing a piece of blonde hair from her face that had escaped her bun. I never noticed how short it was until now.

I roll my eyes. "You're not still mad at me, are you?"

She snorts. "Don't flatter yourself, Matthew. I'm not mad at you. For now, at least."

"Then why won't you tell me what you said to him?"

She whips her body around to face me. With crossed arms, she says, "Since when have we shared every part of our personal lives?"

My hands ball into fists. "How is that personal? I'd like to know what you said to a man that could save our lives!"

"It's personal to me, Matthew. And I saved your life, so don't get all high and mighty with me."

An officer comes behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder. I jump."I was told you need medical attention, Sir. I'll show you the medic if you follow me." I glance at her before I turn away, and then I know I should say nothing before I make the situation worse. Instead, I follow the officer into a room below deck.

"So you're friends with that one, eh?" he asks as we descend the stairs.

"Do you know her?"

He groans. "God, I wish. She's famous. And gorgeous, I might add."

I want to roll my eyes, but I refrain. I have to admit, this whole thing is rather curious. "How is she famous?"

"Well, I don't know," he says as we walk down a corridor. "Nobody here except the Captain and Rollins knows. All I know is King Louis ordered we accept anyone with this certain marking on their hand. It seems your friend has it, I suppose."

I suppose she does. _What else has she kept from me?_ Immediately curse that thought. We've known each other not two days. I don't even know her name.

Finally, we arrive in a room, and that's where the officer leaves me. The doctor stands off in a corner, fiddling with some instruments. "Sit." He gestures to a table on the far side of the small room. I do so, narrowing my eyes as he walks over to me. At his request I take off my shirt and allow him to examine my arm. "I see no infection," he mumbles. "That girl did good pouring the whiskey over it."

"How'd you…?"

"You can smell it a mile away, son." He threads a needle and pours alcohol over it before taking a swig himself. As he begins the first stitch, I grab the liquor and take a sip myself. "That girl do this to you?" he asks as a smile tugs on his lips.

I snort. "No, but she wants to, I'm sure."

"Don't take it too roughly. Women like to play games."

"Well, she is not playing a game. She's bitter and cold and stupid and—"

"Don't call her stupid, Son. She is not stupid, and never call her stupid again."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Why? Do you know her?"

"Of course not, but I can already tell. She's one of the brightest women I've ever seen. Well-educated, I'm sure. Don't underestimate her just because she's a woman."

"Well, she's a very stupid, bright woman."

"Beware. Don't make that one mad." He pats my back when he finishes my stitching. We're silent for a few minutes as he wraps my arm up. Escorting me to the door, he nods. "I wish you good luck, Son. In business and life."

"Wait, what's your name?"

He smiles. "James."

 **(A/N: Wow. Ok, it's been three weeks since I last updated, and I realize you're probably wondering why. You have all been so wonderful to me, so you deserve an explanation:**

 **I… can't write anymore. I started on FF because it looked fun, because I wanted to write. It made me happy and gave me something to do. I joined this website two years ago, and I have made so many wonderful friends. For so long writing was this surreal thing that I loved to do, that I couldn't wait for, but now, well, it's something I dread.I don't know what happened. When i was writing AATY I was SO excited, but something happened. I don't have the will to write anymore. It's a chore, something I hate, and I can't do it to myself anymore.**

 **So I can't keep writing this way. I've tried for so long to please everyone, but I can't anymore. This is why I will most likely not continue this story. I thank you for reading this, and maybe I'll try to continue sometime, but I can't. It causes me too much stress and anxiety. I'm sorry.**

 **Weatherbug02)**


	10. Tell Me Something Good

My stomach churns nervously as Matthew is led away. I haven't eaten for what feels like days, though I know it's only been two days. My God. _Two days._ How has all this happened in so little time?

With an internal shake of my head, I turn to the officer that still stands gaping at me. "Bring me to your captain." Any other man would backhand me for talking to him like that, but my voice is dangerous, testing anyone to try me.

The officer nods, gesturing for me to follow. Men stare at me, but not in the way that would usually make me slap them. Their faces are shocked, skeptical, maybe a little fearful, but no matter what they know not to mess with me. And it's a good choice. Right now I'm out for blood.

Below deck smells absolutely putrid of rotting fish, even more so than the barge we were on. I have no idea how these men live in such deplorable conditions. I'll have to speak to Louis about this when I get back to Paris. _If_ I get back to Paris. It's a gamble at this point after everything that's happened.

We arrive at the captain's door, and the officer knocks gently. "Sir? There's someone here to see you."

"Leave me be, Reginald. I have business to attend to."

"Actually, Sir," he says, his voice cracking, "this is urgent."

There is silence for a moment, then a grumbling right inside the door. "My God, man, is the damned ship sinking?" the captain asks right before the door swings open. His eyes settle upon me. "Who is she? I don't need introduced to your whore, Reginald."

"She—"

"You best mind your mouth, Sir," I snarl, wrapping Matthew's coat tighter around my body. Showing the captain my lack of clothes would not help my case.

He sneers, raking his eyes down my body. Behind him, I see a small room with a desk, a few chairs, and paper. Nothing more. _Not much of an office_. "And who are you to speak to me in such a way? Maybe I should take you in here and teach you a lesson"—he leans toward me, his breath foul—" _little lady_."

"Lay a hand on me, _Captain_ , and you will lose that hand. And that arm." I turn to Reginald. "Leave us."

The captain growls. "Don't order my men arou—"

"I said 'leave', Reginald. I suggest you do it."

Reginald looks between his captain and me, eyes frantic and confused. "Sir—"

"Don't take a step, Reginald," the captain growls.

Eyes narrowed, his hand inches toward his waist and to the sword strapped to it. Before he fingers can even touch the sword, he's pinned to the wall. "I dare you, _captain,_ to try to control me. When I'm on this ship, I'm the only commander here. You do what I say and you will live."

"The king will have your head," he chokes out, wary of the blade against his throat.

"The king has nothing over me."

"Leave, Reginald," the captain says. I loosen my dagger from his neck as the door closes behind the officer. "I will give you what you want, but please, miss, remove your blade."

A faint smile lines my lips. "Sit," I say, nodding to the chair. He moves to sit at the one behind the desk, but I pull him by the collar into the one facing the desk. "There are certain things you don't quite understand yet, Captain…?"

"Oswilder," he says quietly.

I sit behind the desk and fold my hands together. "Captain Oswilder, you see, I am not a woman to be tampered with. One wrong move and I will kill everyone on this ship. King Louis won't blame me for it either." I start thumbing through the paper on his desk, not failing to notice the nervous look he sports. "But, as long as you obey me, Captain Oswilder, you will be immensely rewarded for saving my partner and me from death."

"What do you need?"

I glance toward him, running my fingers down his quill that lays on the desk. "Medical aid, which is already being given. At least, I hope, for your sake. We'd also like food and shelter until the morning, as well as money."

"Why?"

"I don't believe it's any of your business, Sir. But, if you must know, I'm going to Paris to see my king."

He sneers. "Are you his whore as well?"

It takes one slap to have him spitting blood on the ground. "I dare you, _Captain Oswilder_ , to call me a whore one more time." I kneel and put my mouth close to his ear. "One more time," I whisper, pressing the tip of my blade into his spine, "and my pretty, little dagger will be in your back."

"Please," he whimpers, "I'm sorry."

I grab his black hair, forcing his head to face me. "Do you want to know who I am, _Captain_?" I shove my palm into his face. His eyes widen. "That's right. You know. You know and you _will_ fear me."

"Please," he says, quieter this time. "I meant no disrespect."

I scoff. "No, that's exactly what you meant. Had you known who I was, you wouldn't have said such things. But that doesn't excuse your actions. You do not treat women as if you own them. You don't disrespect them because mess with the wrong one and she will find and kill you." I shove him into the chair. "You will give us what we want, or things will get very ugly, very fast. Do you understand?"

A faint nod.

"Good. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to see my partner. And he better be alive."

Matthew waits in the medical "hall" with a bandaged arm and a defeated look. "Get up," I say, walking into the room.

He sighs, leaning back into the wall. His dark hair is ruffled, as if he ran his fingers through it several times. "Fuck off."

"I'm sorry, I just saves our asses and I'm the one who should fuck off?" I scoff. "Such male entitlement."

He stands up and faces me, a snarl on his lips. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, my arm had a bullet go through it, and I'm stuck on a ship with one of the most unbearable women I've ever met."

"Well, good luck getting out of here without me." I turn around, and head toward the door, but his voice stops me.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I… I'm just not used to relying on anyone."

I narrow my eyes. "Who _are_ you?"

He stands and slowly limps toward me until he's only a few feet away. "That cannot be known, for my safety and for yours."

I step toward him, cheeks flushed, but I'm not sure if it's from the heat of this room or being so close to Matthew—some stranger. "And why is that?"

His eyes are dangerous when they meet mine. There's some type of hunger there, but it's not anything I've seen before. His fingers brush against my own, and I stiffen. "I won't hurt you," he whispers. "Trust me."

I let out a shaky breath as his hands slide up my arms, settling on my shoulders. We're only mere inches apart. "I barely know you."

"I know. And you may never know me fully, but I promise, I will never hurt you. Say the word, and I will never speak to you again. If you want me to leave, say so. I will. You deserve that much for everything you've done for me."

I press my fingers into his biceps. "Thank you, Matthew. I-I don't know what you want from me, but thank you."

"I don't want anything you aren't willing to give me. You decide what that is."

My voice is shaky as I say, "When I—we—get back to Paris, you'll be immensely rewarded for your services." But I have the feeling money is not exactly what he's talking about.

"Then I will oblige," he says, then removes his hands from my shoulders. Slowly, I take a step back and try to steady my breathing. What is it about men that makes me like this? "When are we leaving?" he asks.

"At dawn."

He sighs. "That's in three hours."

I smirk. "All the more reason to go to sleep now."

"Are you sure they won't attack us?"

"You think so little of me. Of course I am."

"But they have guns," he says, resting a hand on his injured arm. "I don't feel comfortable with this."

"You'll never feel comfortable with this, but it's all we have right now, Matthew."

"Would you at least stay with me?"

That question catches me by surprise. I swallow the lump in my throat. "Why?"

"I'd just feel better if you were with me."

I smirk, though I can feel the blush rising to my cheeks. "Afraid of the dark, Matthew?"

"No, I'd just feel better knowing you were safe."

"I can take care of myself, you know." I know he knows this, and it may very well be just wanting to look out for me, but somewhere inside myself I know I want it to be something else.

Matthew smiles very faintly and says, "I know. But if they do try to attack us, I think two would be better than one."

I nod. "Fine. I… I'll stay with you if that's what you really want."

He chuckles. "Uh… do you happen to have clothes?"

I look down at myself and roll my eyes. "Yes, because a ship filled with all men will definitely have women's clothes. Of course I don't have clothes. If I recall correctly, you stripped me and left them in the boat, which is highly inappropriate, I should add."

He presses his back against a wall and lets out a breath. "I'm sorry I saved your life."

I press a finger to his chest and wrinkle my nose. "No you aren't. I am a delight and you are quite lucky to have me."

He leans closer, narrowing his eyes. "Such a delight are you? Mind showing me how much?"

I purse my lips, trying to hide the smirk that hides there. "Such a stud, Matthew."

He shrugs. "I'm just saying if you ever want to—"

"I'm not sleeping with you. Sorry."

He laughs. "It's okay. You'll come around."

"Didn't you say you'd stop if I said the word?"

"You haven't said to stop yet, and by the looks of it you seem to enjoy our witty banter."

I snort. "You're such an ass. But yes, I do enjoy our witty banter. What makes me uncomfortable is when you touch me."

He immediately removes his hand from my arm, one I hadn't realized until seconds ago he'd put there. "Fine. I won't touch you, but yo

u are always welcome to touch me, dear."

I cringe. "Don't call me 'dear.' And I'm tired. Very tired. Can we go to sleep now."

"I mean, there are other things we could do besides sleep, but—"

I cut him off by slapping his arm. "Shut up, Matthew."

"Just saying," he mumbles.

He moves away from me and locks the door. "Better safe than sorry in the midst of the imbeciles. Get the blankets out. They should be in the cupboard." As he said, the blankets lie inside the cupboard, reeking of alcohol.

"My God, what did they do to it?"

Matthew wrinkles his nose. "They wash it in alcohol because drinking water is too valuable to spare on these ship."

"I can't sleep with this," I choke, throwing it at him.

He snorts. "Suit yourself then. Any pillows?" I shake my head. "Well, there's no way we're going back out there, so cozy up. It's bedtime."

 **Matthew keeps his** hands to himself, and for a good reason. He doesn't seem like someone who likes that kind of thing anyway, if I'm perfectly honest. As much as I'd like to cozy up with a complete stranger, the stench of blood and a dizzying amount alcohol keep me awake well past what I like.

Matthew seems to be soundly asleep, but I know he's not. I've played the game too many times not to realize the tense feeling in the air. The floor's freezing, and the fact I have no blankets doesn't help the predicament. I'm over four feet from Matthew and though it doesn't some far enough away, I move closer.

"Matthew?" I mumble into the dark.

He's silent for a moment, and I soon start to wonder if he's actually sleeping, but soon he turns to face me. "Hm?" He's wide awake, but there's an eternal tiredness behind his eyes that I recognize in myself.

"Thank you for bringing me this far. I couldn't have done it without you."

His lips twitch. "You're welcome."

We're both silent for a moment, the air rather tense. The only noise I can recognize besides the occasional squeal of a rat being eaten by the ship's cat is the somber crashes of waves against the lower deck. "Matthew?" I ask, trying to distract myself.

"Hm?" he says again, his eyes closed.

"Tell me something good."

He lets loose a breath. "Nothing is good."

"That's a lie. There is good."

"Why do you want to know?"

My chest aches. "Because I need it right now." Subconsciously, I move closer to him. "Please."

After a moment of silence I think he's going to say no again, but finally he speaks. "I had a brother once." He shifts onto his back, staring up into the ceiling. "He was wonderful. He had this smile that could… light up a room. His hair would flop over his eyes, these beautiful brown eyes, and he's always trip over things because he never paid much attention to the real world." His voice starts to strain. He pauses. "His favorite color was blue. When I asked why he always replied, 'Because it's the color of your eyes.'"

I had never noticed. His fingers brush against mine very gingerly, almost cautiously. Slowly, I press my hand to his.

"He had the messiest handwriting," he whispers. "His mind went too fast for what he was trying to write. At night when he got scared he'd climb into my bed. His mother would be furious in the morning when she couldn't find him, but it didn't matter to him." _His mother._ Not _our_. What happened to his mother?

"And he'd always be so happy when I snuck him sweets from the kitchen when the cook wasn't around. Sometimes we'd go into the gardens at night. He'd look up at the sky and say, 'Gabe, what's it like to fly?'" He stops, his breath hitching.

Almost immediately I realize why. "Gabe?"

"It's nothing," he mumbles.

"Is that your real name?" My fingers stroke his palm.

"No." He's silent for a moment. "Nickname."

I move closer to him until I feel his breath on my skin. "What happened to your brother?"

"He's gone."

I close my eyes and decide not to press anymore. "I'm sorry."

We're silent for a few minutes, only accompanied by the waves and the feeling of our near embrace. My shoulder brushes his, and his breath on my neck sends shivers down my spine. "Hey," he mumbles.

"Hm?"

"Tell me something good."

I close my eyes, contemplating what to say for a moment, before brushes my fingers down his jaw. "Once there was a girl in Gascony…

* * *

 **(A/N: Yeah, so I finished a chapter, I guess? I'm kinda slowly writing this, and I can't promise there'll be a lot of updates, but I'm trying.)**


	11. Assassins Have Souls

**(Warning: This chapter contains highly suggestive material. If you cannot handle such material please exit. Continue at your own risk. Nothing graphic, but you know.)**

* * *

We wake up entwined, his hands tangled in my hair, my hands tangled in his shirt. I know we're both awake, but neither of us try to disentangle ourselves. Nothing happened between us, but we spent the night grasping at each other somehow, still refusing to let go. It's stupid, I know, but there's some kind of comfort I feel in him, and I never want to leave it.

"We need to leave," he whispers, his breath caressing my ear. "It's almost dawn."

I sigh. "Matthew, they're not going to hurt us."

"No, it's me hurting them I'm worried about."

He's always so worried, so terrified. He won't admit it, but I can see it in his eyes, the way he tenses if someone stares too long. I know because I do the same thing. "I need clothes." I still wear his coat, my old garments lost somewhere in that boat.

"I'll see if the military ship can supply you a nice Parisian dress on the way."

I loosen my grip on his shoulders and stare him in the eye. "No, that's not what I need."

He raises a brow. "What else would you wear?"

I'm already on my feet, swinging open the door. "It's better if you just wait."

 **The coats fit** better than expected, though it definitely took a lot to convince the smallest guy on board to give me his uniform. With my hair up in a cap and looking much more masculine, I could actually pass for being part of the French Navy.

Matthew eyes the coat awkwardly before dropping it to the ground. "I can't wear this."

I let out a groan and lean against the wall. "Why not?"

"I just can't. I can't dishonor this country by wearing this uniform."

I snort. "You think wearing the uniform will dishonor France? Trust me, a lot worse people have worn this jacket. And you're looking at one right now."

His eyes rake up and down my body, and I force myself to remain still. "I highly doubt that."

"Try me."

He walks over to me, and I press myself against the wall. "How many people have you murdered in cold blood?" His voice is chilling. It should scare me, I should leave right now.

But I don't. I smile. "How many do you think?"

"Much more than you should have."

I force my eyes away from his and notice the closeness of our bodies. He's so much taller than me that he has to lean awkwardly down to meet my eyes. "No. The blood on your hands is justified. Mine's not."

"I don't know what happened to make you kill someone, but it couldn't have been for the wrong reason." He brushes a hand against my arm. "But even if it's not, I don't blame you. Some people deserve to die." The thought slips out easily enough, and it doesn't hurt me as much as one would think. "I should die."

"Never." He lets out a breath and moves away from me.

He slides his arms into the coat.

* * *

The officers glare at us as we pass by, eyeing the uniforms with obvious disdain. They can't bear to see them on such vile people. And they're right. We dishonor the uniform, but if me dishonoring this blue uniform keep it from going red, then so be it.

The captain waits for us near the edge of the ship, a scowl on his face. His eyes trail from my eyes to my chest instantly, and Matthew sets a hand on my shoulder, grunting in displeasure. I small part of me feels grateful. "That will be all, Sir. We thank you for your… hospitality and will put in a good word for you when we get to Paris." He turns to me. "Let's go."

But when we try turning to leave, a group of men blocks our our path. "English scum."

"What is this?" I ask mostly to myself as Matthew's grip on my arm tightens.

"We do not condone English spies or assassins on this ship, especially ones wearing our uniform," the captain mumbles.

Before I realize, hands grasp me, but I can only voice one word. "Assassin?"

Matthew pulls out a sword. _Where had he gotten that?_ "Can we talk about this later?" he growls blocking a strike at the same time as pulling my back to him.

"You're a goddamn assassin!"

"If you don't stop right now we are going to _die._ " I keep my mouth shut, but a huge part of me wants to scream in protest.

He lied to me! He gets paid to kill people. How could he not tell me? I've done so much for him, told him so much. How could he? _Why do you care so much?_ my mind bites back. _Because he's your friend._ Or he was.

Suddenly I realize my line of work is not much better. Not four days ago had I just killed a man. Maybe he's not that different from me after all.

"As much as I love the look you're giving me, I would very much like for you to help me get us out of here," Matthew snaps as we're backed into the side of the ship. I try searching for my sword, but suddenly something drenches me. I panic for a moment, my chest heaving as my eyes are drenched in red.

 _Blood. Oh God. This is death this is the end._

"Hey!"

 _It's over._

"Look at me."

 _It's time to repay my sins_

Hands grasp my shoulders, but I can't see who they belong to. I force my eyes shut, the hot liquid I'm drenched in too strong. I feel my knees give out, and I hit the floor with a thud. I'm not sure when I start screaming. I just know I do.

"Look at me!"

I feel water. It's cold and it fills my throat. It chokes me, but it clears away the red on my face. Matthew clings to me as we float to the surface. He must've jumped ship, a stupid move normally, but right now I can understand it was our only option.

As soon as we return to the surface, I choke out a breath and let a strangled sob. Matthew pulls his arms tighter around me. "You're okay. Hey, look at me."

"The blood," I choke out, refusing to open my eyes. "Get the blood off me."

I hear them firing shots, but they miss by 100 meters or so. Matthew's a fast swimmer. "It's okay. Close your eyes." I'm not sure how long it takes, but my feet hit solid ground and suddenly I'm clinging to the earth.

"Hey," Matthew prompts, grabbing my chin. "Calm down."

"The blood," I squeak. "It's on me."

He grabs me and slides off my jacket and boots, pinning me to the ground. His nose brushes mine. "Open your eyes." My chest heaves, but it's less sporadic, more controlled. "Look at me."

Slowly, I open my eyes and am immediately blinded by the sun glaring down at us. Matthew's face is the first thing I see. "There is no blood," he whispers. "There's no blood."

I gulp and let out a painful breath. I glance at my jacket that lies in the rocky soil beside us. "The coat is red, you bastard."

His face contorts at the name. "It's paint. They mark traitors with red paint to stain them so nobody will trust them."

"That's why they let us go," I mumble, closing my eyes again. Matthew's body is almost flush against mine, though no weight's pressed against me. My clothes, or lack thereof, cling to my body, and I slide a hand between his chest and mine. "We need to get out of here."

His fingers stroke the collar of my shirt before standing up and pulling me to my feet. There's something hidden behind his eyes, something unseen and dangerous, but before I can question it, he's walking. I follow. "We need to find a place to stay, but no one can see you. You're stained red everywhere."

I look down at myself. It's true. My hands are red, my clothes, even my hair. Not even the ocean was able to wash it away. "Why didn't they pour it on you?" I ask quietly.

He's silent a moment before answering. "Being stained is a great dishonor, one of the highest, besides banishment."

My heart pangs. "You're an assassin."

His lip curls upward. "Yes."

"Okay."

"You're not mad?"

I laugh. "Oh, no, I am very mad. But I don't blame you. You do what it takes to survive, right? I've killed people, I'm not going to lie about it, and I know you have as well. And we both want to get to Paris for different reasons. And once we're there I never have to see you again."

"I didn't have to take you this far," he snaps back. "I should leave you here right now to die."

I turn and slap him right in the face. "Try it, Matthew. I dare you."

He growls and grabs my hand when I try to slap him again. "I don't need you. I've lived a long time on this earth without someone pulling me back, and I can live a lot longer with or without you." I try to strike him again, but he catches me. "Don't try to hit me again."

"If you want to leave so badly, then go. I don't want or need you. I can handle myself."

He scoffs. "Do you even see yourself? You're stained red everywhere. One look from a villager and you'll be dead. There's no running away. I'm the only thing that will help you. No one wants a traitor."

"I am not a traitor!" I shout, pulling my wrists from his grasp. "I've given my life to this country, Matthew. I refuse to give it up now."

"Well, I've spent my life avoiding this country. Every time I come her a part of my soul is ripped away."

I push him back. "I didn't know assassins had souls."

His expression contorts from anger into something that resembles hurt. He walks away without another word.

Again, I follow.

* * *

I walk behind Matthew for what seems like forever. My feet start to ache, the rocks leaving tiny imprints on them. I'm ashamed of what I said to Matthew, so ashamed, but I can't take it back now. It won't fix it.

It's dark when we come across a town. I stand awkwardly at the outskirts, afraid to be seen, while Matthew waltzes right up to the only inn. Tears prick my eyes as he leaves me, and I'm suddenly unconsciously aware of the chill. He's really leaving me out here. What have I done?

He's been so good to me. I wanted to leave him on that freighter ship to die at the hands of his enemies. He's never tried to leave me, not once. He could have so many times, and now I deserve it. I really do. I don't deserve his affection. I don't deserve his help. I. Deserve. Nothing.

I'm out there for a few minutes at most, but it feels like an eternity. My wet clothes cling to my body, and combined with the wind it feels as if I'm being frozen in place. I want to cry, but I'm sure m tears will freeze as well. It's late November. It should be snowing right now, but I thank God it's not. But if it was I'd laugh at the coincidence.

"Hey," a voice says, his voice deep and low.

I whip my head around toward the voice and gasp. "Matthew." I run to him, grabbing his shoulders. " You came back."

His eyes are hard as he pulls away from me. "Follow me. And don't be seen, please."

I'm hurt by his coldness, but I know I deserve it. I follow him through the shadows of the town. It's very small and quiet, and there are no dangerous gangs roaming the streets, so the inn is easy to make our way toward. We enter the back way, and when Matthew insists on climbing through a window, I have to admit, I'm quite skeptical.

"This isn't some kind of payback, is it?"

"Get in the window."

I groan in response and start climbing. It's not that high up, and I've definitely climbed higher, but there's something in the back of my mind that makes it terrifying. Finally, I make it into the room and collapse onto the floor. It's small. The beds are small, the wardrobe is small. I don't know how Matthew could even fit in here, especially when he hits his head on the ceiling.

He ignores me completely, turning away to take off his boots and jacket. Slowly, I come closer to him. "Matthew."

"I don't want to hear it," he growls.

I let out a breath. "I'm so sorry. I never should've said those things, I… I of all people shouldn't judge you for it. No sane person likes killing people, so you obviously don't want your job. We've both killed people, ruined lives, but we do what we must to live."

"There's water for you in the wash basin," he says quietly not meeting my eye. "You should try to wash some of that stain off."

The wash basin doesn't have its own room, instead shoved into a corner by the bed. It's grimy and gross, but at this point I have no choice. Matthew's back is turned when I start unbuttoning my shirt, but by the time it slides off he's peeking over his shoulder. My back is facing him, but I feel his hot gaze on my bath. All too slowly, I start undressing, and my cheeks are red by the time I slip into the bath.

The water is freezing, so I scrub fast and hard, but the red doesn't come out. I glance over to my right and see Matthew standing there silently, his hands balled into fists. "Come here," I say, almost choking over the words. He obeys me and crawls next to me. Finally, his eyes are softer and I realize maybe, just maybe, he forgives me.

I touch his face, wiping away some of the mud caked on his cheek. He sucks in a breath. "I can't get it off me. Will you help me?"

He nods and grabs one of the rags next to me. Gently, he runs it across my face, down my arm. I close my eyes and feel his hands on my back, my neck, my chest. I don't know if it's working or helping the stains, but it doesn't matter to me anymore. I meet his eyes again and grasp his face, this time with both hands.

Our kiss is soft, cautious, unsure. Neither of us realize what we've done yet, but once we do I doubt either of us will stop. I stand up out of the basin, pulling him up with me. I bite his lip as I pull his jacket off, whimpering at his tentative nature. Water drips slowly down my chest as I kiss him, your hand wrapping around my hip. I'm pulled out of the wash basin and onto the bed, the water still dripping.

"Don't leave me," he whispers into my ear as he sheds his tunic.

"Never," I lie.

* * *

 **(A/N: This is highly unedited and very embarrassing, but my friends, I don't have the will to edit, so the garbage will do. And yeah, please don't come into the reviews bashing about how I've ruined your innocent minds lol. There is a clear rating at the beginning of this chapter, and trust me, this is definitely not rated M.**

 **And for those wondering, yes, I'm still kinda working on this. It's not as stressful anymore, and I'm kinda getting excited about this so wooo**

 **Weatherbug02)**


End file.
